tiianone 


«   8 


5  '  *  ^  Q 

<- I.- — • 

,  .  ..  |  .1  • 
^  .  « **  v/ 


Go;y right,  tyof.ty  HURST 6'Go. 


~>  o 


Thrown  on 

the  World 


BY 

CHARLOTTE  M.  BRAEME 

Author  of  "DORA  THORNE,"    "THE  DUKE'S  SECRET,"  " THORN 
IN  HER  HEART."  "A  MAD  LOVE,"  Etc.,  Etc. 


NEW  YORK 

HURST  AND  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"YOU   ARE   NOT   MY   WIFE!" 

Hath  he  not  sworn  his  love  a  thousand  times 
In  this  green  valley,  under  this  green  hill, 
Even  on  this  hand,  sitting  on  this  stone, 
Sealed  it  with  kisses,  watered  it  with  tears  f 

TENNYSON. 

AGAIN  the  door  of  the  dining-room  opened,  and  Silvia 
Rymer,  looking  up,  saw  the  flushed  face  of  Hannah,  the 
maid. 

"  It  is  after  seven,  and  dinner  was  ordered  for  five.  I 
cannot  keep  it  any  longer." 

Mrs.  Rymer  smiled,  though  a  shade  of  uneasiness 
came  over  her  beautiful  young  face. 

"Has  not  my  husband  returned  yet,  Hannah?"  she 
said. 

"  No ! "  was  the  blunt  reply.  "  I  always  did  think 
that  when  a  gentleman  once  leaves  a  house,  he  never 
knows  the  time  to  come  back." 

Mrs.  Rymer  laughed. 

"  Try  to  keep  everything  nice  for  one  half  hour  longer. 
You  can  do  it,  Hannah,  if  you  will  try." 

"  I  can  try,"  said  the  girl,  "  but  between  trying  and 
doing  there  is  a  wide  difference." 

She  went  back  to  the  kitchen,  and  Silvia  Rymer  took 
up  the  book  she  had  been  reading;  but  it  was  in  vain 
that  she  tried  to  fix  her  attention  on  it;  there  was  a  mist 
between  her  beautiful  eyes  and  the  page ;  the  sense  of 
the  words  she  was  reading  did  not  reach  her  mind.  She 
looked  at  her  pretty,  jewelled  watch,  it  was  twenty  min- 

2134481 


6  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

• 

utes  past  seven  ;  and  when  he  kissed  her  that  afternoon, 
he  had  said  he  should  be  back  by  five. 

She  rose  from  her  seat  and  went  to  the  window.  No 
fairer  scene  than  that  on  which  she  gazed  ever  met 
human  eye.  The  grand  Scotch  lakes  in  the  distance,  and 
the  heather-crowned  hills  stretching  down  to  them  ;  a 
large,  old-fashioned  garden  led  to  the  meadows,  and  the 
meadows  sloped  to  the  borders  of  the  lake. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  June,  and  the  sun  shone  upon 
the  blue  waters,  the  heather,  and  the  flowers.  The 
breath  of  the  rose  and  the  lily  floated  toward  her ; 
among  all  the  the  flowers  blooming  in  the  garden,  there 
was  not  one  so  fair  as  the  young  face  gazing  over  them. 

"It  is  strange  he  does  not  come,"  she  said. 

Just  then,  from  among  the  roses,  came  a  young  girl, 
holding  a  lovely,  princely  baby  in  her  arms. 

"  Bring  the  baby  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Rymer.  She  took 
the  child  in  her  arms,  kissed  the  little  velvet  cheek, 
caressed  the  little  golden  head,  talked  to  him  in  that 
sweet  language  only  known  to  mothers  and  children. 

"  Where  is  papa,  baby  ? "  she  said  ;  and  the  child 
raised  his  large,  dark  eyes  to  hers.  Her  heart  grew 
warm  within  her  as  she  looked  at  him.  Ah  !  please 
Heaven,  what  a  grand,  noble  man  he  would  be  in  the 
years  to  come,  but  never  so  noble  as  his  father,  Alric 
Rymer.  Earth  did  not  hold  his  equal. 

Then  nurse  and  baby  went  away.  Over  the  lake  came 
the  sound  of  the  chimes  —  half -past  seven.  There  was 
Hannah,  looking  very  cross,  with  an  appearance  of  great 
meekness. 

"Would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do 
with  this  dinner  ?  "  she  said. 

Mrs.  Rymer  went  back  into  the  room  ;  the  scent  of  the 
roses  and  lilies  followed  her.  The  room  was  the  very 
picture  of  comfort,  prettily  furnished  with  flowers  and 
books,  the  dinner-table  bright  with  its  choice  linen  and 
delicate  silver.  There  was  her  husband's  chair  ready  for 
him;  everything  that  he  could  desire  or  wish,  prepared 
with  loving  hands  and  loving  thought.  He  had  left 
home  at  three,  telling  her  he  was  going  to  Brae  on  some 
business. 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  7 

Brae  was  a  small  town  only  two  miles  away.  She 
]ooked  round,  noting  every  detail ;  on  a  side-table  she 
Baw  a  cigar-case  and  a  kid  glove,  with  a  faded  flower  he 
had  worn  that  morning.  She  raised  the  glove,  and  kissed 
it  with  passionate  kisses.  "  My  love !  my  love !  "  she 
murmured,  "  how  was  I  worthy  of  you  ?  " 

As  she  stood  with  that  half-divine  light  on  her  face, 
she  looked  fairer  than  any  pictured  dream.  She  was  tall 
and  slender,  not  more  than  eighteen,  with  a  figure  of 
perfect  grace  and  symmetry  ;  fine  little  hands,  and  fine 
little  feet ;  a  white  neck,  delicate  and  graceful ;  a  face  so 
pure  and  lovely  in  its  fresh,  girlish  beauty — so  sweet,  so 
true,  so  eloquent — a  face  such  as  Raphael  \vould  have 
given  to  angels,  framed  in  soft,  shining  hair,  brown  in 
the  shade  and  golden  in  the  sun  ;  dark  violet  eyes,  bright 
as  stars.  She  was  exquisitely,  but  simply,  dressed.  On 
her  white  neck  shone  a  golden  locket,  worn  with  a 
golden  chain,  and  on  the  fair,  rounded  arm  was  a  brace- 
let of  gold  and  precious  stones.  The  sunlight  fell  over 
her,  the  perfume  of  the  flowers  floated  round  her ;  but 
she  was  lost  in  a  trance  of  happy  love. 

"  My  love  !  my  love  !  "  she  murmured  again,  "  who  in 
this  wide  world  is  so  happy  as  I  ?  " 

Hannah  again,  but  this  time  she  held  in  her  hands  a 
letter,  and  her  face  looked  less  anxious. 

"  A  messenger  has  brought  this  from  Brae,"  she  said. 
"  The  master  sent  it." 

With  a  smile  still  on  her  lips,  and  a  beautiful  blush 
that  overspread  her  face,  as  her  eyes  fell  on  the  beloved, 
familiar  writing,  she  took  the  letter.  She  kissed  her  own 
name  because  he  had  written  it. 

"  My  love,"  she  said  again  to  herself ;  "  how  thought- 
ful he  is  of  me." 

Then  she  sat  down  in  his  chair  near  the  window  to 
read  it — Heaven  help  her! 

"With  the  sun  shining  above  her,  and  the  fair  flowers 
around  her,  she  read  her  death-warrant. 

She  read  the  words  that  struck  her  from  the  list  of 
honored  living  women,  and  blighted  her  whole  life. 

One  moment  she  was  smiling,  her  heart  warm  with  the 
thought  of  him ;  the  next,  that  tender,  loving  heart  was. 


8  THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD. 

broken.     Heaven  help  her  and  all  who  suffer  from  the 
heartless  cruelty  of  men  ! 

These  were  the  words  on  which  the  sun  shone,  words 
that  stabbed  and  slew  the  truest,  the  kindest,  and  most 
tender  of  God's  creatures : 

"MY  DEAREST  SILVIA,  — It  is  better  and  kinder  to  speak  plain- 
ly to  you,  and  tell  you  all.  You  will  blame  me,  but  my  excuse  is 
I  loved  you  so  dearly,  so  madly,  that  I  could  nut  live  without  you. 
Always  remembir  that,  when  you  are  disposed  to  judge  me 
harshly.  Always  remember  that  I  loved  you  first,  dearest,  and 
best;  that  no  other  woman  can  ever  take  your  place  in  my  heart; 
but  Silvia,  I  have  deceived  you — I  was  obliged  to  deceive  you;  all 
is  fair  in  love,  and  if  I  have  won  you  by  strategcm,  I  am  not  the 
first  who  has  forgotten  what  the  world  calls  honor  iu  love. 

"Better  for  you  to  know  the  truth.  I  could  not  live  without 
you,  but,  Silvia,  you  are  not  my  wife!  Do  not  hate  me.  I  could  not 
marry  you,  because  for  some  years  past  I  have  been  betrothed  to 
a  lady  in  my  own  rank  of  life,  and  I  am  now  compelled  to  leave 
you  and  keep  my  promise  to  her.  I  have  misled  you  as  to  myself. 
You  have  believed  me  to  be  Alric  Eymer,  a  man  of  moderate  and 
mediocre  position ;  it  is  not  so.  Prudence  forbids  me  to  reveal  my 
real  name  and  rank. 

"Now,  believe  me,  Silvia,  I  am  grieved  to  write  this:  if  it  had 
been  possible,  I  would  fain  have  kept  all  knowledge  of  this  from 
you.  The  form  of  marriage  we  went  through  I  knew  was  useless 
—-it  was  merely  to  satisfy  your  delicate  conscience — it  was  a  vain, 
idle  ceremony.  I  repeat  this  because  I  hope,  in  course  of  time,  to 
know  that  you  have  married  some  one  worthy  of  you. 

"I  hope  common,  sense  will  guide  you,  and  that  you  will  avoid 
all  tragic  nonsense.  Hundreds  of  girls  have  been  in  a  similar  posi- 
tion, and  have  afterward  settled  comfortably  in  life.  Eemember,  if 
there  be  any  blame,  it  is  mine,  not  yours.  You  have  believed  your- 
self my  wife,  I  knew  you  were  not.  It  is  hard  to  part  from  you — 
we  have  been  very  happy — but  I  dare  not  remain  in  Scotland  for 
another  day.  I  know  you  will  grieve,  but  you  mu=t  make  Hie  best 
of  it.  You  may  be  very  comfortable.  I  have  made  ample  pro- 
vision for  you  av\  the  boy.  If  you  will  write  to  Messrs.  King  & 
Gresham,  Thavies  ~>n,  London,  to  whom  I  have  committed  your 
interests,  they  will  cell  you  the  amount  of  your  income,  and  what 
is  set  aside  for  the  boy.  It  will  be  paid  to  you  quarterly,  on  condi- 
tion that  you  never  seek  to  find  me,  or  anything  about  me.  Your 
marrying  will  make  no  difference.  Lake  Cottage  was  taken  for 
two  years ;  you  had  better  remain  until  the  time  expires. 

"Now,  good-by,  my  beautiful  Silvia.  My  heart  aches  to  write 
the  word.  You  must  try  to  forget  me — try  to  mako  the  best  of  it, 
and  learn  to  be  happy  with  some  one  else.  The  saddest  hour  of 
my  life  is  this  in  which  I  leave  you,  but  go  I  must.  Though  we 
shall  never  meet  again,  believe  me  always 

u  Your  lover  and  admirer, 

"  Alric  Kymer." 


THROWN    ON    THE    WOULD.  if 

From  the  thin  folds  of  paper  a  bank-note  fluttered  to 
the  ground,  and  lay  unheeded  where  it  fell. 

Heaven  help  her!  There  is  no  remedy  either  on  earth 
or  in  heaven  for  such  woe  as  hers.  She  read  to  the  very 
end,  and  then  sat  still,  staring,  dumb,  like  one  turned  to 
stone.  She  did  not  scream,  faint,  or  weep ;  but  the  awful 
despair  that  came  over  her  was  terrible  to  see.  The  white 
lips  were  parted  and  open,  but  no  sound  came  from  them  ; 
the  violet  eyes  had  a  wild,  lost,  bewildered  expression  ; 
no  trace,  no  outward  expression  of  grief  could  have  been 
so  awful  as  this  blank,  silent,  terrible  despair. 

The  wind  blew  the  falling  leaves  of  the  roses  into  the 
room,  and  then  idly  stirred  the  letter  which  lay  at  her 
feet;  that  aroused  her  as  though  some  living  thing  had 
moved  beside  her.  She  rose  from  her  seat. 

"Alric!"  she  cried,  with  a  terrible  voice,  then  rose, 
like  one  blind  and  dizzy,  and  went  into  the  garden.  She 
thought  he  was  there ;  her  brain  reeled  beneath  the 
shock  ;  there  was  nothing  save  the  flowers  and  the  trees, 
and  she  went  back  again,  not  knowing  what  she  was 
about. 


CHAPTER   II. 

A   DE8KRTED   HOME. 

•*  I  pray  thee,  pass  before  my  light  of  life, 
And  shadow  all  rny  soul,  that  I  may  die." 

"Dm  you  call  me,  Mrs.  Rymer?"  asked  Hannah,  who 
heard  something  of  that  terrible  cry.  She  turned  her 
ghastly  face  and  said  "No."  Then  the  girl,  looking 
down,  saw  the  bank-note  on  the  ground.  She  picked  it 
up  wonderingly. 

"  Money  is  plentiful,"  she  said,  placing  it  on  the  table. 
"  Shall  I  bring  your  dinner,  or  will  you  have  some  tea  ?  '' 

"  I  will  ring  when  I  want  anything,"  was  the  reply. 

The  girl  wondered  why  her  mistress's  voice  was  so 
changed.  She  turned  to  look  at  her,  but  the  white  face 
was  hidden  from  sight.  She  went  away  again,  leaving 
the  lady  alone  with  her  despair.  Again  she  looked  at  the 
letter,  and  read  it  word  for  word. 


10  THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD. 

"  It  must  be  a  jest,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  it  cannot  be 
true,  i  ain  his  wife  before  God  and  man." 

But  those  words  were  not  jesting  words ;  they  were 
terrible,  strange  ;  but  as  she  eat  in  horrified,  bewildered 
silence,  it  dawned  upon  her  for  the  first  time  that  she 
might  have  been  betrayed,  duped,  deceived,  and  deserted. 
Such  things  had  been  done  before,  but  not  surely  by  men 
like  Alric.  Alric,  her  handsome,  gifted  hero !  so  gener- 
ous, so  noble,  so  far  above  his  fellow-men !  It  was  not 
possible  to  believe  it  all  at  once — but  supposing  it  should 
be  true? 

She  sat  quite  still  and  motionless — there  was  not  even 
a  quiver  on  the  white  lips. 

"  O  Heaven  !  "  she  cried.  "  Let  me  die  before  I  know 
the  truth."  She  bowed  her  head,  unable  to  think  or  to 
speak,  bearing  in  bitter,  anguished  silence  this  first  shock 
of  her  unutterable  woe.  What  shame,  what  grief,  what 
outraged  love,  what  wounded  pride,  what  anguish  passed 
like  a  tempest  over  her,  who  shall  say  ? 

Half  an  hour  had  passed  before  she  raised  her  white 
face  again,  and  then  there  was  upon  it  such  hopeless, 
helpless,  settled  despair,  that  no  one  could  have  recog- 
nized her. 

She  rose  slowly,  and  stood  erect ;  her  limbs  trembled, 
a  mortal  sickness  was  upon  her;  a  mortal  cold,  that 
seemed  to  freeze  the  blood  in  her  veins,  and  made  her 
heart  beat  slowly. 

"  I  am  no  wife !  "  she  said.  "  I  gave  him  my  heart, 
my  love,  my  life,  my  honor,  and  in  return  he  has  de- 
ceived me.  I  am  no  wife  !  " 

She  raised  her  face  to  the  smiling  summer  heavens. 
She  raised  her  white  hand  as  though  she  would  fain 
pierce  with  her  wrongs  the  blue  skies,  and  reach  the 
great  White  Throne. 

"  God  of  justice  !  "  she  said,  slowly ;  "  God  of  light ! 
I  appeal  to  you  against  him.  I  am  innocent,  for  I  be- 
lieved that  I  was  his  wife  !  " 

Did  that  wild  prayer,  that  wild  cry  for  justice,  pierce 
the  clouds  and  reach  the  merciful  Father  to  whom  no 
wrong  cries  in  vain  ? 

She  had  been  silent,  stunned,  bewildered,  until  now. 


THROWN  ON  THE   WOKLD.  11 

The  rose-leaves  came  floating  slowly  past  her,  the  sun 
shone  brightly  over  her,  and  a  burning  sense  of  outraged 
pride,  of  wounded  love  and  wounded  honor,  began  to 
burn  her  very  heart  away. 

"  I  gave  him  my  love,  and  he  has  made  an  outcast  of 
me.  I  gave  him  my  life,  and  he  has  made  me  ashamed 
of  it.  I  loved  him,  and  he  has  left  me." 

The  silence  and  stupor  of  despair  had  died  away  ;  the 
very  frenzy  and  rage  of  sorrow  was  upon  her.  Her  eyes 
flamed  with  anger,  her  face  flushed  hotly.  She  took  up 
the  bank-note  that  lay  on  the  table,  and  laughed — a  sound 
terrible  to  hear. 

"  This  was  to  be  the  price  of  my  love,  my  honor,  my 
fair  name,  my  soul !  " 

She  tore  it  into  shreds. 

"  I  will  starve — I  will  die ;  but  I  will  take  nothing 
from  him  !  "  she  said. 

She  went  up  to  her  room  and  brought  down  all  the 
jewels,  the  ornaments,  he  had  ever  given  her ;  she  tore 
the  golden  chain  from  her  neck ;  one  by  one  she  threw 
them  under  her  feet,  and  trampled  them  into  a  thousand 
fragments. 

"  I  did  not  sell  my  soul  for  these  !  "  she  cried,  as  she 
spurned  the  fragments.  "  I  will  have  nothing  that  has 
ever  belonged  to  him." 

Then  the  wild  fury  died  away,  and  she  stood  lost,  be- 
wildered. 

"I  cannot  live!"  she  said  to  herself,  hoarsely;  "I 
cannot  live !  I  was  not  proud  ;  but  I  hold  my  fair  name 
and  my  honor  dearer  than  my  life.  I  have  lost  both, 
and  I  cannot  live." 

Once  again  she  went  into  the  room,  and  put  on  a 
bonnet  and  shawl ;  on  the  stairs  she  met  the  nurse  and 
the  baby.  A  low,  bitter  cry  —  one  that  must  have 
pierced  the  high  heavens — came  from  her  lips.  She  did 
not  look  at  her  child ;  she  turned  her  face  away  as  he  was 
carried  by. 

"  Are  yon  going  out,  madame  ?  "  inquired  the  nurse. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  hoarse  voice.  "  Do  the  best  you 
can  for  him.  I  am  going  out." 

She  must  die j  the  intolerable  shame  was  not  to  be 


^  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

borne.  Besides,  in  her  fair,  innocent  life  she  had  had 
but  one  love,  and  now  that  he  was  gone  from  her  forever 
how  was  she  to  live?  She  could  not  look  in  the  baby's 
face  she  was  never  to  see  again,  and  she  could  not  kiss 
the  pure  little  lips — she  was  going  out  to  die!  She  stood 
in  the  sunlit  garden,  looking  aronnd  her  with  haggard 
eyes — eyes  that  burned,  but  from  which  no  tears  flowed. 

This  time  last  evening  he  had  walked  with  her  up  and 
down  the  broad  paths,  his  arm  clasped  round  her,  kur'i- 
ing  as  she  told  him  pretty  marvels  of  the  baby,  laughing 
at  her  inquiries,  her  earnest,  tender  words.  Just  then*, 
close  to  that  great  sheaf  of  white  lilies,  he  had  stoopod 
to  kiss  her,  and  said  he  was  jealous  because  she  loved  tho 
baby  most. 

Yes,  at  that  very  moment,  he  knew  that  he  had  de- 
ceived her ;  that  she  was  not  his  wife  ;  that  in  twenty- 
four  hours  he  would  have  left  her  forever. 

A  cry  for  vengeance,  for  justice — the  cry  of  a  broken 
heart — came  from  the  white  lips.  Oh,  for  death !  for 
death  !  She  could  not  bear  the  shame  of  life ;  she  could 
not  bear  the  horrible  pain  that  tortured  her. 

Was  there  ever  a  sadder  sight  under  the  summer  sun 
than  this?  This  girl,  so  young,  so  beautiful,  eo  loving, 
looking  around  her  for  the  means  of  death.  And  yet 
such  a  sight  was  but  another  record  o^  the  sin  and  the 
selfishness  of  men. 

"  How  am  I  to  die  ?  "  she  said. 

There  lay  the  lake,  shining  clear  and  bright  in  the  sun, 
bearing  white  water-lilies  on  its  calm  breast;  bright- 
winged  birds  skimmed  over  it ;  gentle  wavelets  washed 
the  green  banks.  Should  she  seek  her  rest  there  ? 

"No,  I  could  not  die,"  she  thought;  "I  have  been 
with  him  so  often  over  that  clear  water.  I  should  see 
his  face  in  the  depths,  and  I  could  not  die.  I  must  have 
a  quick  death,  in  which  I  shall  not  be  tortured  by  any 
memory  of  him." 

Then  she  started,  for  she  heard  a  sound  of  laughter — 
wild,  unearthly  laughter — it  was  herself. 

"Am  I  going  mad  ?  "  she  thought.  "  Let  me  die  !  let 
ine  die  !  not  live  mad  !  " 

She  was  laughing,  for  the  idea  had  just  occurred  to  her 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  13 

that  it  was  a  jest — a  poor  one,  a  sorry  one,  but  still  a  jest ; 
he  had  written  that  letter  to  try  her,  only  to  try  her,  and 
he  would  come  presently  from  among  the  trees,  laughing 
too,  holding  out  his  arms  to  her,  and  then — and  then  she 
should  press  to  him  'vajjli  a  long,  low,  shuddering  sigh,  and 
he  would  kiss  her  tears  away. 

"  It  could  not  be  true,"  she  said  to  herself,  now  she 
stood  out  in  the  sunlight ;  "  no  man  dare  so  wantonly  and 
wickedly  ruin  an  innocent  girl;  no  man  dare  so  outrage 
the  laws  of  God  and  of  man.  She  would  go  to  Brae  and 
know  if  it  were  indeed  true. 

"  Dare  he,  dare  any  man  win  a  girl's  pure  heart  and 
break  it  ?  Dare  he  have  won  her  love,  have  taken  her 
from  home,  have  made  a  mockery  of  that  solemn  mar- 
riage rite,  and  so  have  betrayed  her?  No,  it  was  not 
possible,  even  to  the  selfishness  and  wickedness  of  men," 
she  said  to  herself,  "  there  were  limits." 

She  had,  indeed,  poor  child,  much,  to  learn. 

She  would  go  to  Brae.  See,  the  sunlight  lay  low  on 
the  fields ;  the  birds  were  all  singing  in  the  fields ;  the 
wind  stirred  the  fragrant  heather ;  the  blue  bells  and 
primroses  laughed  among  the  long  grass;  the  smile  of 
summer's  beauty  lay  over  the  fair  earth  ;  could  there  be 
such  desolation,  such  anguish,  such  darkness  and  sorrow 
in  store  for  her  ?  No,  it  was  not  possible.  Earth  would 
not  mock  her  with  its  beauty  or  heaven  with  its  smiles,  if 
nothing  but  anguish  and  cfrefath  lay  before  her. 

She  turned  from  the  lake-side ;  a  short  path  through 
the  woods  led  to  Brae.  The  great  boughs  of  the  spread- 
ing trees  stretched  out  on  either  side  :  the  beautiful  sun- 
shine came  filtered  through  the  green  leaves;  the  merry 
brown  hares  ran  leaping  through  the  woods;  quiet,  »\;d 
beauty,  and  fragrance  were  all  around  her.  Could  d:  'k- 
ness  and  desolation  be  waiting  for  her  on  the  other  side  ? 

She  reached  Brae ;  no  one  who  had  known  her  a  few 
hours  ago — fresh,  fair  and  radiant — could  have  recogniz- 
ed her  now — haggard,  with  a  ghastly  face  and  despairing 
eyes.  Some  recollection  must  have  come  to  her,  for,  as 
she  left  the  woods  and  slaw  the  little  town  of  Brae  h  ing 
before  her,  she  pulled  the  veil  over  her  face,  and  tried  to 
look  more  rational,  more  like  herself.  The  bells  wera 


14:  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

chiming  from  the  old  church  tower — chiming  some  sweet 
old  melody  to  which  she  had  often  listened  with  Alric  by 
her  side.  Where  was  she  to  go,  now  that  she  stood  in 
the  town  from  whence  had  come  that  cruel  letter. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  WHY  DID  YOU  NOT  LET  ME  DIE  ?  " 

'*  I  know  that  wheresoever  I  am,  by  night  and  day, 
All  earth  and  air  seem  only  burning  tire." 

THERE  was  but  one  hotel  in  the  little  town.  "  The 
Brae  Arms,"  and  there  Alric  had  gone  at  times  to  play 
at  billiards.  She  remembered  that,  and  perhaps  even  now 
he  might  be  there,  laughing  at  the  jest — such  a  cruel  jest 
— so  unlike  him.  Could  it  be  a  jest,  after  all? 

One  or  two  strangers  who  psssed  her  by  looked  with 
"wonder  at  her.  Through  the  thick  veil  one  could  see  the 
"white  face  and  the  burning  eyes. 

"I  must  speak  calmly,"  she  thought,  "or  they  will 
think  that  I  am  mad." 

The  landlord  himself  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  hotel. 
She  clinched  her  hands  so  tightly  while  she  spoke  to  him, 
that  great  red  dents  left  their  marks  there  for  days  after- 
ward. 

"  Is  Mr.  Rymer  here  ? "  she  asked,  and  the  man,  who 
knew  her,  replied, 

"  Ko,  madam ;  he  left  at  four  o'clock.  He  went  to 
meet  the  train  at  Glenrock.  I  understood  Mr.  Rymer 
that  he  was  going  to  Paris." 

The  landlord,  who  knew  that  the  lady  before  him  was 
called  Mrs.  Rymer,  looked  at  her  in  wonder.  She  saw 
the  look.  No  need  to  laugh  and  sneer  at  her  yet — she 
would  be  dead  soon.  Before  people  knew  that  she  had 
lost  her  honor  and  her  fair  name  she  would  be  lying  dead 
— and  no  one  sneers  at  death.  She  clinched  her  hands 
more  tightly,  and  the  physical  pain  brought  her  to  her 
senses. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  replied  j  "  I  did  not  know  that  he 
had  gone." 


THKOWN    W   THE   WORLD.  1 

Then  she  walked  away,  with  no  trace  of  the  deadly 
despair  that  had  mastered  her  in  her  manner. 

"  That  seems  queer,"  said  the  landlord  to  himself. 
"Why  should  he  go  to  Paris  without  telling  his  wife  ?  " 

Still,  it  did  not  concern  him  and  he  resumed  his  for- 
mer occupation  of  whistling  "  The  Laird  o  '  Cockpen  " 

How  was  she  to  die  ?  There  was  no  mistake  now — no 
hope  left ;  it  was  no  jest,  but  a  grim,  horrible  truth — a 
shame  she  would  not  face,  a  disgrace  she  could  not  endure 
— but  the  difficulty  remained,  how  was  she  to  die  ? 

Great  flushes  of  crimson  were  in  the  sky,  and  the  rosy 
light  lay  on  the  clean  pavement.  She  passed  happy 
homesteads,  where  the  father  M'atched  with  smiles  the 
gambols  of  his  children,  while  the  mother  sung  at  her 
work.  She  passed  happy  young  lovers,  whose  shy  glances 
told  their  secret ;  and  all  the  time  pain  and  anguish  were 
at  her  heart. 

She  could  not  bear  it.  There  was  to  be  no  more  happy 
home  for  her,  no  more  belief  in  a  husband's  love,  nor 
delight  in  the  smiles  of  a  child.  She  must  die  soon — die 
before  that  golden  sun  set,  and  before  men  knew  the 
story  of  her  shame. 

There  before  her  was  a  druggist's  shop.  Plenty  of 
means  of  death  there.  She  entered.  There  was  only  a 
boy  behind  the  counter  ;  the  master  was  out.  She  went 
up  to  him. 

.  "  I  want  some  laudanum,"  she  said.     "  I  am  suffering 
intense  pain,  and  I  must  have  some  at  once." 

The  boy  looked  up  with  something  like  a  smile. 

"  Is  it  toothache  ?  "  he  asked  :  and  she,  whose  lips  had 
never  been  sullied  with  a  false  word,  bowed. 

"  You  had  better  take  a  bottle  of  this,"  he  added, 
pointing  to  some  patent  medicine. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  impatiently,  "  I  will  take  that  as 
well ;  but  I  must  have  laudanum.  Nothing  but  laudanum 
will  deaden  my  pain." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  the  boy,  "  if  I  can  sell  poison. 
There  is  some  law  or  other  about  it." 

"  You  can  sell  it,"  she  replied,  steadily,  to  trustworthy 
people.  I  have  to  sign  my  name  in  a  book.  You  know 
my  name — I  am  Mrs.  Kymer,  of  Lake  Cottage." 


36  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

Then,  before  she  had  finished  the  words,  she  remem- 
bered that  she  had  no  claim  to  that  name,  it  was  not  hers. 
The  boy  did  not  understand  the  crimson  flush  that  came 
over  her  face,  he  thought  the  pain  had  caused  it.  lie 
placed  the  bottle  of  laudanum  on  the  counter  and  served 
her  with  a  small  quantity.  She  was  longing  for  death — 
death,  that  should  free  her  from  shame.  She  sent  the 
hoy  to  another  part  of  the  shop,  and  he,  all  unsuspicious, 
went.  While  he  was  gone  she  took  the  "bottle  and  filled 
the  little  vial  that  she  had  in  her  hand,  then  she  paid  him 
and  hastened  away.  The  door  of  the  other  world  was 
opened  to  her  now.  She  held  the  key  in  her  hands. 

Slowly  she  walked  down  the  quiet  street.  At  the  end 
stood  the  old  church,  from  the  tower  of  which  came  the 
pealing  of  the  bells,  the  sweet  old  chimes.  It  was  no 
longer  a  question  of  how  should  she  die — but  where. 
Where  should  she  take  her  last  look  at  the  fair,  smiling 
earth.  Before  her  lay  the  church-yard :  there  the  dead 
slept  in  peace ;  there  was  rest  from  shame,  from  disgrace, 
from  misery.  She  would  go  there,  and,  sitting  on  one  of 
those  green  graves,  would  drink  the  laudanum  and  die. 

"  That  is  my  death-knell,"  she  said  to  herself,  listening 
to  the  plaintive,  sweet  chimes.  She  sat  down  on  a  grave 
that  had  been  made  under  the  shade  of  a  hawtho:  n-tree, 
then  looked  round  on  earth  and  sky.  Her  farewell 
glance,  and  ah,  me  !  how  fair  that  world  was  ;  how  grand 
the  distant  hills,  covered  with  pine,  covered  witk  heath- 
er; how  beautiful  the  summer  woods,  with  their  shady 
calm  and  springing  flowers,  how  beautiful  the  little  town 
;md  the  old  church,  with  its  ivy-clad  towers,  how  beauti- 
ful those  great  flushes  of  crimson  light  in  the  western 
skies ;  how  sweet  the  song  of  the  birds,  and  the  chime 
of  the  bells. 

She  was  going  to  leave  it  all,  because  the  selfish  sin  of 
one  man  had  made  her  life  intolerable  to  her.  She  was 
mad  with  shame  and  sorrow:  no  thought  of  ri^ht  or 
wrong  came  to  her.  She  never  once  remembered  that 
her  life  was  not  her  own  to  destroy  when  she  would  ;  she 
remembered  only  the  shame  of  her  position  and  the 
blight  of  her  life. 

She  would   not  remember  her  past ;   she   would   not 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  17 

dwell  upon  the  innocent  days  of  her  girlhood,  the  days 
when  he  who  had  deserted  her  had  taught  her  to  love 
him.  She  would  dwell  upon  nothing  but  her  betrayal 
and  her  desertion. 

Suddenly,  as  she  sat  there  with  the  poison  in  her  hand, 
she  thought  of  the  little  child;  in  the  madness  of  her 
anguish  she  had  almost  forgotten  it — the  child  who,  when 
she  was  dead,  would  be  left  alone  and  friendless  in  the 
wide  world. 

"Better  that — better  that,"  she  moaned  to  herself, 
"  than  that  it  should  know  its  mother's  story." 

Then  she  raised  the  vial  to  her  lips,  and  across  the  be- 
wildered mind  and  whirling  brain  came  the  thought  that 
she  had  to  meet  her  God.  A  few  minutes  more  and  she 
would  be  face  to  face  with  the  Great  Father  whom  she 
had  never  willfully  offended. 

She  fell  on  her  knees,  and  a  wild  cry  for  pardon  came 
from  her  lips. 

"  He  has  driven  me  to  death,  O  God  !  "  she  said,  "  for 
I  cannot  hide  the  shame  of  my  life.  You  are  more 
merciful  than  men,  take  pity  on  me  ! " 

Did  that  cry  pierce  those  beautiful  skies  ?  Could  there 
be  a  deeper  curse  on  any  man,  deeper  condemnation, 
than  that  a  woman  should  utter  such  a  prayer. 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and  placed  the  bottle  to  her  lips. 
Several  drops  of  the  bitter,  thick,  dark  liquid  had  been 
swallowed,  when  a  strong  hand  dashed  it  from  her,  and  it 
fell  broken  into  a  hundred  fragments,  the  deadly  poison 
staining  the  sweet,  green  grass. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  cried  a  clear,  strong  voice. 
"  How  dare  you  fly  in  the  face  of  the  living  God  ?  You 
are  seeking  to  kill  yourself?  " 

She  raised  her  haggard  eyes,  and  saw  before  her  a 
stately  old  man,  whose  hair  M7as  white  with  age  ;  his  face 
beautiful  with  goodness  and  benevolence. 

"  You  were  going  to  kill  yourself,  child,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  her  in  horror. 

But  she  fell  at  his  feet,  crying  wildly  : 

"  Why  have  you  saved  me  !  Oh,  why  did  you  not  let 
me  die  $ " 


18  THROWN    ON   THE   WOKLD. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 

*'  Life  is  mine.    I  who  gave  it 
,  Alone  can  take  away." 

THE  rector  stooped  and  raised  the  unhappy  girl,  in  his 
arms ;  he  looked  in  wonder  at  the  white,  haggard  face, 
with  its  terrible  impress  of  suffering ;  he  wondered  at 
her  youth,  her  beauty,  her  sorrow. 

"  What  can  have  driven  her  to  death  ? "  he  thought. 
She  had  not  fainted — such  misery  as  hers  is  rarely  lost  in 
unconsciousness.  He  placed  her  on  the  grave  where  she 
had  been  sitting,  and  again  she  moaned  : 

"  Why  did  you  not  let  me  die  ?  " 

He  looked  down  on  her  —  not  unkindly  ;  he  had  seen 
too  much  of  human  suffering  for  that. 

"  If  I  saw  you  standing  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice," 
he  said,  "  should  I  not  draw  you  back  ?  If  I  saw  you 
falling  into  a  name  of  fire,  should  I  not  try  to  save  you 
from  it  3  " 

She  looked  up  at  him,  and  he  shrunk  from  the  pain 
and  anguish  in  those  sad  eyes. 

"  You  do  not  know,"  she  said ;  "  you  do  not  under- 
stand. I  cannot  live." 

He  took  both  her  hands  in  his ;  they  were  cold  as 
death — so  cold  that  the  touch  startled  him. 

"  My  poor  child,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  do  you  know  that 
your  life  is  not  your  own  s  You  cannot  prolong  it  for 
one  moment,  nor  can  you  dare  to  destroy  it.  God  gave 
it  to  you ;  God  will  take  it  back.  You  may  not  fling  it 
in  His  face  like  an  unwelcome  gift." 

"  You  do  not  know,"  she  moaned. 

"No  I  do  not  know,  perhaps,  your  particular  sorrow ; 
but  I  am  an  old  man  now,  and  all  my  life  long  I  have 
been  teaching  the  law  of  God  ;  I  have  seen  suffering  in 
every  shape,  in  every  form,  and  I  know  that  nothing 
justifies  suicide." 

She  shrunk  at  the  word. 


THROWN    ON   THE    WOKLD.  19 

"  I  have  seen  human  desolation  and  misery  that  could 
not  be  exceeded,"  he  continued  ;  the  remedy  is  submis- 
sion to  God,  not  willful  destruction.  Can  you  not  trust 
me  with  the  story  of  your  sorrow  ? " 

"  No,"  she  replied  :  "  it  is  not  to  be  told." 
"  Poor  child  !  "  he  said,  gently ;  "  you  are  young  to 
endure  so  much.  But  whatever  your  sorrow  may  be,  do 
not  make  bad  worse.  This  life  will  soon  be  ended ; 
whether  it  has  been  happy  or  miserable  will  not  matter 
to  us  at  the  hour  of  death.  Do  not  make  it  worse  by 
adding  eternal  ruin  to  it.  You  know — though  men  of 
science  may  rave,  and  men  of  would-be  wisdom  may 
sneer — you  know  that  for  the  crime  of  suicide  there  is  no 
pardon.  "Would  you  like  to  be  cut  off  forever  from  the 
Great  God  ? " 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  she  replied.  "  I  only 
thought  that  I  could  not  bear  the  shame  of  my  life." 

She  sat  silent  for  some  minutes;  he  watching  intently 
her  beautiful,  ghastly  face.  Suddenly  she  looked  up  <u 
him. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  why  this  has  happened  ?  "  she  said. 
"  I  have  been  a  good  girl  all  my  life  ;  I  do  not  remember 
that  I  have  ever  wilfully  sinned  ;  I  have  been  proud  of 
my  fair  name,  I  thought  it  the  crowning  glory  of  my 
life,  the  crown  of  my  womanhood,  the  one  pearl  beyond 
price  ;  I  was  never  a  coquette ;  I  never  spoke  a  light 
word ;  I  never  gave  a  free  look  ;  I  was  modest  as  the 
white  daisies  here  growing  over  the  dead.  If  any  one, 
to  tempt  me,  had  offered  me  the  whole  world  as  the  price 
of  my  honor  and  fair  name,  I  should  have  despised  it. 
Now,  can  you  tell  me  why  this  happened  ?  why  my  life 
is  to  be  one  long  shame  ?  " 

She  spoke  with  such  passionate  eagerness  he  could 
hardly  follow  her. 

"  You  forget,"  he  said  gently,  "  that  I  do  not  know 
what  has  happened,  Will  you  riot  tell  me  ?" 

A  crimson  flush  came  over  the  despairing  face;  she 
flung  herself  upon  the  ground. 

"  I  cannot  —  I  cannot ! "  she  cried.     "  I  cannot  sully 
my  lips  with  my  own  story." 
Mr.  Douglass  looked  at  her,  not  knowing  what  to  do. 


80  THROWN    ON    THK    WORLD. 

Tlie  bells  were  chiming  more  slowly  now;  the  sun  was 
Betting  ;  birds  were  folding  their  wings  :  the  flowers  clos- 
ing their  eyes  :  the  crimson  flushes  were  dying  out  of  the 
western  skies;  the  gloaming  was  coining  on.  What  was 
he  to  do  with  the  unhappy  girl  lying  with  her  face 
hidden  in  the  grass,  not  weeping,  not  fainting,  but  cold 
and  silent  in  her  despair  ?  He  would  not  leave  her  there. 
He  bent  over  her. 

"  Have  you  father  or  mother  living  ? ':  he  asked,  and 
she  answered  him  that  her  father  had  been  dead  many 
years,  but  that  her  mother  still  lived — far  away,  though, 
far  away. 

"Tell  me  where?  "  he  asked  patiently. 

"Away  in  England — in  Kent,  among  the  hills  and 
orchards ! " 

"  Will  you  not  go  to  her,  or  let  me  send  for  her  ? " 

"  No,"  she  replied  ;  "  I  shall  never  look  upon  my 
mother's  face  again.  Oh,  sir,  if  you  would  but  leave  me 
— leave  me  to  die  1  I  cannot,  indeed  I  cannot  bear  my 
life." 

"  Have  you  not  looked  up  to  the  ministers  of  God  as 
holding  any  authority  ?  "  he  asked  gravely. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  with  a  weary,  woe-begone  ex- 
pression deepening  on  her  face. 

"  Then,  by  virtue  of  that  authority,"  he  said,  "  I  com- 
mand you  to  tell  me  your  story." 

"  I  was  seventeen,"  she  said,  "  and  cursed — listen  to 
me — cursed  with  a  beautiful  face,  when  a  stranger  came 
to  our  town  and  married  me.  He  was  handsome  and 
clever  ;  ah,  me  !  ah,  me  !  there  is  no  one  like  him.  He 
asked  me  to  marry  him,  and  my  mother  said  *  Yes.' 
I  loved  him  ;  how  can  I  tell  you  how  I  worshiped  him  '( 
you  would  think  it  wicked.  He  was  the  very  light  of 
my  eyes,  the  pulse  of  my  heart.  I  said  I  had  done  no 
wrong;  I  had  forgotten.  My  mother  wanted  us  to  bo 
married  at  the  church  in  our  town,  but  he  was  not  will- 
ing ;  he  told  me  he  expected  some  money  from  a  relation, 
who  would  never  leave  it  to  him  if  he  found  that  he  w;is 
married.  He  asked  me  if  T  would  consent  to  keep  the 
marriage  secret  for  some  time,  and  I  told  him  'Yes.' 
He  asked  me  if,  instead  of  being  married  at  my  home,  I 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  21 

would  go  to  Scotland  ;  there  was  danger  for  him,  he  said, 
in  being  married  in  England. 

"  I  was  innocent  of  all  wrong,  of  all  guile,  of  all  harm, 
as  a  little  child  ;  but  I  did  the  greatest  wrong  of  rny  life 
when  I  consented.  He  pleaded  so  earnestly  with  me  ;  ho 
asked  me  not  to  tell  my  mother,  lest  she  should  be  un- 
willing, for  she  would  not  understand  as  I  did  the  need 
for  secrecy.  I  must  have  been  blind — but  then,  I  was  so 
young.  I  left  home  with  him,  leaving  a  letter  for  my 
mother  that  explained  all ;  and  I,  poor,  blind,  infatuated 
child,  thought  no  harm  and  knew  no  wrong. 

She  paused  for  a  few  moments  ;  the  words  came  from 
her  lips  in  such  a  burning  torrent  that  he  at  times  could 
hardly  hear  them. 

"  I  came  with  him  to  Scotland,  sir,  and  we  were  mar- 
ried— I  believed  really,  honestly,  and  truly  married.  If 
I  had  not  believed  that,  sir,  dearly  as  I  loved  him,  I 
would  ten  thousand  times  rather  have  died  than  have 
done  as  I  did.  I  have  lived  for  nearly  two  years  in  a 
whirl — a  dream  of  happiness.  I  thought  often  and  often 
that  heaven  could  not  be  fairer,  brighter,  or  sweeter  than 
earth  ;  and  when  my  baby  came  my  heart  melted  with 
gratitude  to  God. 

"  Sir,  listen  to  me.  I  was  brought  up  modestly — to 
love  God,  to  value  my  soul,  to  value  my  fair  name  above 
all  other  gifts.  I  loved  this  man,  who  wooed  me  Avith 
the  deepest  passion  ;  but  I  thought  myself  his  true  wife. 
Now  tell  me  why  I  am  so  cruelly  punished.  There  has 
come  to  me  to-day  a  letter  from  him,  and  he  tells  me  I 
a:ii  not  his  wife — that  he  purposely  deceived  me — that  I 
(io  not  know  his  name,  his  rank,  or  anything  of  him  ; 
that  he  has  left  me  forever,  left  me  to  marry  a  lady  in  his 
own  rank  of  life  ;  that  he  has  left  me  money,  as  though 
money  could  repay  me.  •  O  God ! "  cried  the  wretched 
girl,  "  why  did  you  not  let  me  die  ?  How  am  I  to  bear 
it?" 

The  kindly  face  of  the  good  minister  grew  very  white 
as  he  listened ;  he  raised  his  hand  as  though  he  would 
fain  protest  against  the  selfish  cruelty,  the  sin,  the  crime 
of  men. 

Then  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  bowed  head. 


22  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

"It  is  very  hard,  cruelty  hard,  terribly  hard  for  you, 
my  poor  child,"  he  said  ;  "  but  it  will  be  harder  for  him 
on  the  day  wherr  he  must  answer  for  his  sins.  You 
never  had  the  least  suspicion,  then,  until  now,  that  your 
marriage  was  a  false  one  ?  " 

"  I  never  even  dreamed  of  such  a  thing ;  how  should  1, 
how  could  I  ?  I  should  as  soon  have  doubted  Heaven  as 
doubted  him." 

It  was  her  first  experience  of  the  world's  wickedness, 
but  it  was  not  his.  He  had  seen  heart  broken  women 
and  wicked  men  before,  yet  he  had  never  been  brought 
face  to  face  with  such  sorrow  as  this. 

"You  must  not  add  to  his  condemnation  by  adding  to 
his  sin,"  he  said,  gravely.  "  If  you  destroy  yourself, 
your  death  will  lie  at  his  door." 

"  Yet  how  can  I  live  ?  "  she  cried  passionately.  She 
plucked  up  the  long  roots  of  grass  and  flung  them  away. 
She  looked  so  wild,  so  bewildered,  that  he  felt  afraid  she 
would  lose  her  reason. 

"  Others  have  had  the  same  to  bear.  Others  have  been 
thrown  on  the  world.  You  must  make  the  best  of  it. 
You  take  a  morbid  view  of  your  own  case.  Even  suppose 
that  all  he  says  is  true,  you  have  been  deceived.  I  can 
not  see  that  you  are  guilty  of  any  sin ;  and  if  your  own 
conscience  be  clear,  and  you  are  innocent  before  Heaven, 
ah,  child  !  you  must  carry  your  burden  bravely  before 
men.  What  has  happened  is  your  misfortune,  not  your 
fault.  Listen  to  me.  Let  me  try  to  give  you  more  hope- 
ful views  of  life.  A  long  and  happy  lii'e  may  yet  be 
before  you,  though  you  are  now  friendless  and  thrown  on 
the  world." 


THBOWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  23 


CHAPTER  Y. 

LIFE'S    GRANDEST   LESSON ENDURANCE. 

"  LISTEN  to  me,"  repeated  Mr.  Douglass.  "  Let  me 
give  you  nobler  and  higher  views  of  life." 

She  turned  her  despairing  face  to  him. 

"  You  need  not,"  she  said,  gently ;  "  I  know.  I  was 
well  brought  up  ;  I  had  teaching  such  as  you  would  give 
to  a  daughter  of  your  own.  You  do  not  quite  under- 
stand. Suppose  even  that,  as  you  say,  I  am  before 
Heaven  quite  innocent  of  all  sin,  that  in  the  eyes  of  men. 
I  have  been  betrayed,  not  wicked  ;  supposing  that  I  have 
not  the  weight  of  great  and  unmerciful  shame  to  bear, 
still,  how  can  I  live  with  a  broken  heart  ?  " 

For  one  minute  he  made  no  answer,  but  a  light,  beauti- 
ful to  see,  came  over  his  face. 

She  repeated  her  question. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "  how  am  I  to  live  with  a  broken 
heart  ?  " 

"  You  could  not  have  asked  that  question  from  one 
who  would  have  known  the  answer  better  than  I  do,"  he 
replied.  "  Look  ;  do  you  see  that  white  marble  cross 
gleaming  between  those  trees  ?  " 

She  followed  the  direction  of  his  hand.  The  western 
sunbeams  lay  low  on  the  grass,  and  the  trees  were  stand- 
ing in  a  rosy  golden  light.  From  between  them  she  saw 
the  gleam  of  a  white  marble  cross. 

"I  see  it,"  she  replied. 

"  My  heart  was  broken,"  he  said,  "  thirty  long  years 
ago,  and  was  buried  in  that  grave  with  my  beautiful 
young  wife.  Yet  I  have  lived  on,  and  have  done  my 
Master's  work  faithfully,  ever  since." 

Her  eyes,  rather  than  her  words,  asked  him  how  it 
was. 

"  I  had  loved  her  for  six  years,"  he  said  .gently,  "  but 
we  could  not  marry  because  we  were  poor.  When  this 
living  was  given  to  me,  this  pretty  rectory  became  my 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

own,  with  its  fair  surroundings  of  flowers  and  trees.  I 
made  it  more  beautiful  still  for  her,  and  brought  her 
here  one  summer's  day my  wife. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  child,  it  is  given  to  some  of  us  to  drink 
our  chalice  with  the  foam  on  it,  to  taste  the  highest  bliss, 
to  drink  the  very  dregs  of  the  cup  of  despair.  For  one 
•whole  year  I  lived  with  my  wife  so  happily  that  all  I  had 
conceived  of  the  Garden  of  Eden  seemed  to  me  faint  as  a 
dream  in  comparison.  I  was  so  intensely,  so  wonderfully 
happy,  that  I  used  to  go  about  trying  what  I  could  do 
for  others,  and  how  I  could  best  diffuse  this  great  joy  of 
mine. 

"For  one  year — one  short,  brief  year,  out  of  a  long 
life  time.  "We  were  looking  forward  then  to  the  birth  of 
a  little  child,  and  my  wife's  sweet  face  grew  brighter  and 
sweeter  each  day  with  the  anticipation  of  her  coming 
bliss. 

"  What  do  you  think  happened  ?  ah,  me  !  How  often 
in  the  first  mad  anguish  of  my  grief  did  I  dare  to  raise 
my  eyes  to  Heaven  and  ask  why  was  it  ?  why  was  she 
taken  away  ?  why  could  not  her  most  sweet  and  gentle 
life  have  been  spared  ?  They  both  died.  Mother  and 
child  together.  She  died  in  great  agony,  without  one 
word  for  me  who  loved  her  so.  I  never  saw  my  baby's 
eyes,  or  heard  one  cry  from  the  little  voice.  I  was  like 
one  mad,  running  from  room  to  room,  asking  the  question 
that  no  one  could  answer :  Why  did  she  die  ?  " 

"  As  surely  as  the  sky  shines,  above  us  my  heart  broke 
in  that  hour;  no  words  that  I  could  invent  would  de- 
scribe my  sorrow.  My  heart  was  buried  with  my  wife, 
yet  I  have  lived  on  for  thirty  long  years,  and  I  never  call 
in  question  the  will  of  my  Lord  God.  I  bow  my  head 
in  lowliest  submission ;  and  you,  child — you,  young  and 
beautiful,  may  live  with  a  broken  heart  if  you  will  do 
the  same." 

Then,  and  for  the  first  time,  she  broke  into  a  wild 
passion  of  tears. 

"  lie  was  half  my  life,"  she  wailed  ;  "  nay,  he  was  all 
of  it.  I  had  no  thought  outside  my  love.  I  went  to 
sleep  with  his  name  on  my  lips ;  my  last  thought  wras  of 
him ;  I  woke  up  blessing  the  bright  day  because  it  would 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD. 

give  him  to  me.  The  world  is  all  dark,  all  cold,  all 
desolate.  Without  my  love  !  my  love  !  I  do  not  know 
how  to  live  !  His  face  made  my  light,  my  sunshine,  my 
brightness.  His  love  made  my  warmth,  my  happiness. 
Are  the  flowers  to  bloom,  the  sun  to  shine,  the  leaves  to 
bud  on  the  trees,  years  to  corne  and  years  to  go,  yet  never 
hring  him  once  to  me  ?  I  cannot  bear  it !  I  do  not 
know  how  to  live  !  " 

There  was  something  so  utterly  despairing  in  her  grief 
that  tears  rose  to  the  old  man's  eyes. 

"  You  do  not  know  what  such  love  as  mine  is  like," 
she  cried.  "Do  you  know  —  do  yon  know  that  if  he 
stood  before  me  now  I  should  fling  myself  at  his  feet, 
and  forgive  him  all  ?  " 

"I  do  not  think  you  would  ;  he  has  betrayed  you.  As 
far  as  lay  in  his  power  he  has  spoiled  your  love.  Re- 
member, that  while  you  gave  him  a  pure  and  noble  love, 
he  gave  you  nothing  but  a  selfish  passion,  undignified  by 
the  name  of  love.  Try  to  forget  him." 

He  never  forgot  the  look  she  gave  him. 

"  Forget  him  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  yes :  when  the  birds  for- 
get to  sing,  the  flowers  to  bloom  ;  when  the  sun  forgets 
to  shine,  and  the  earth  forgets  its  light ;  when  I  lie  in  my 
grave,  cold  and  dead,  I  shall  not  forget  him.  Let  him 
pass  by  and  call  my  name,  had  I  lain  there  for  twenty 
long  years,  should  I  not  hear  it  ?  Forget  him  !  my  pulse 
will  stand  still,  my  heart  will  cease  to  beat,  but  I  shall 
remember  him !  " 

Her  face  flushed  hotly ;  her  eyes  grew  bright  and  wild. 

"  I  shall  stand  some  day  before  the  judgement  seat  of 
God,"  she  said,  "  holding  my  blighted,  ruined  life  in  my 
hand  ;  I  shall  not  forget  him  then." 

"  '  Vengeance  is  mine  saith  the  Lord.'  You  cannot 
forget  him,  child  ;  you  must  forgive  him." 

"  Forgive  him  !  "  she  repeated.  "  Yes ;  when  I  cease 
to  remember  how  I  loved  him,  how  he  wooed  me ;  how 
he  has  held  my  hands  clasped  in  his  own ;  how  he  has 
kissed  my  lips  and  called  me  his  wife  —  his  sweet  wife, 
his  dear  wife,  his  loving  wife;  how  he  has  made  me  love 
him  until  my  soul  has  grown  one  with  his,  and  my  heart 


THBOWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

torn  from  him  is  like  a  heart  rent  in  twain  ;  when  I  cease 
to  remember  all  this,  I  will  forgive  him." 

There  was  silence  between  them  for  some  little  time. 
The  vesper  song  of  the  birds  was  dying  away  ;  the  leaves 
stirred  faintly  on  the  trees ;  the  flowers  waved  in  the 
long  grass ;  the  shadows  fell  darker ;  the  round,  golden 
eun  had  set. 

The  minister  bent  his  head  nearer  to  the  girl. 

"  The  first  smart  of  your  sorrow  is  on  you  now,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  know  it  is  hard  to  bear.  Will  you  give  me 
one  promise  ?  You  have  been  a  good  child,  and  have 
said  prayers  at  your  mother's  knee ;  you  have  had  a  little 
child  lying  in  your  own  arms ;  will  you  promise  me,  by 
your  love  for  your  mother  and  your  child — by  your  love 
and  respect  for  the  great  God  Himself,  not  to  try  again 
to  take  your  life  ?  Listen,  child,  to  those  sweet  chimes, 
look  at  the  blue  skies,  take  some  little  comfort,  and  give 
me  your  promise."  She  raised  her  white  face  to  his. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  I  am  to  bear  my  life.  I  do  not  see 
how  I  am  to  live  without  him.  The  greatest  mercy — 
the  greatest  kindness  would  be  for  some  one  to  slay  me 
here  where  I  am  ;  but  what  you  ask  me  for  God's  sake  I 
will  not  refuse.  I  promise  you  that,  come  what  may,  I 
will  never  take  my  own  life." 

"  I  thank  Heaven  !  "  said  the  old  man.  "  Now,  child, 
listen,  and  obey  me ;  go  home,  and  do  not  turn  in  sick 
shuddering  from  the  helpless  child  who  is  there  ;  find 
comfort  in  it,  love  it  doubly,  because  he  who  should  lovo 
it  is  its  worst  enemy.  Do  you  tell  me  in  all  sincerity 
that  you  will  never  touch  the  money  that  this  man  whom 
you  believe  to  be  your  husband,  has  settled  on  you  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  that  my  baby  and  I  starved  to  death 
together,"  she  replied. 

"  I  commend  you ;  I  think  you  are  right.  You  will 
want,  then  to  work  for  your  own  living  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  can  work  ;  I  was  never  ashamed — never  too 
proud  to  work." 

"  You  will  go  away  from  here  and  seek  for  the  means 
of  earning  money  in  some  large  city,  perhaps  ?  " 

"As  well  that  as  anything  else,"  replied  the  girl, 
wearily. 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  27 

"  Remember  always  that  while  I  live  I  am  your  friend. 
God  sent  me  here  I  believe,  to  save  your  life ;  I  must 
help  you  all  I  can.  Go  home  now,  and  to-morrow  I  will 
come  over  to  see  you ;  we  will  form  some  plan  by  which 
you  may  live,  and  live  happily,  I  trust.  Never  say  to 
yourself  that  you  are  alone  and  friendless,  because,  while 
I  live,  you  have  a  true  friend  in  me." 

He  stood  up  and  raised  her  from  the  ground  ;  he  held 
her  hand  in  his. 

"  Courage,  my  poor  child,"  he  said  :  "life  is  but  a 
battle,  and  the  victor  shall  wear  a  golden  crown.  Look 
up  through  the  clouds  and  the  sky,  and  there  is  a  crown 
waiting  for  you.  I  shall  go  home,"  he  continued,  "  and 
I  shall  pray  for  you.  You  will  go  home  and  learn  life's 
grandest  lesson — endurance.'' 

She  bent  her  head,  and  touched  his  hand  with  her  cold 
lips. 

"  I  am  very  grateful  to  you,"  she  said  ;  and  then,  as  he 
stood  watching  her,  with  slow  uncertain  steps  she  left  the 
pretty  green  grave-yard  where  she  had  so  nearly  lost  her 
life. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  FAREWELL,  MY  HOME  !  " 

BACK  through  the  evening  gloaming,  through  the  dark- 
ling shadows,  to  the  home  that  had  once  been  Eden,  but 
would  never  be  home  again,  she  walked  slowly.  Her 
lips  trembled,  great  waves  of  pain  seemed  to  rise,  almost 
to  overwhelm  her,  then  to  recede.  There  was  the  pretty 
garden,  with  its  sleeping  flowers,  the  shadows  were  fall- 
ing fast,  the  rosy  flush  was  dying  out  of  the  sky.  From 
one  of  the  upper  windows  a  faint  light  gleamed. 

Last  evening,  only  last  evening,  at  this  very  hour,  she 
had  been  walking  with  him  ;  they  had  watched  the  sun 
set ;  his  arm  was  thrown  around  her,  his  loving  words 
making  sweetest  music  in  her  ear,  his  lips  seeking  hers 
with  fondest  caresses,  his  hands  lingering  on  her  wealth 
of  golden  hair  —  she  happier  than  any  other  creature 
Jiving,  in  the  sunshine  and  warmth  of  his  love. 


28  THROWN   ON   THE    WOHLD. 

Now  she  must  return  to  the  home  that  would  know 
him  no  more ;  she  must  enter  the  rooms  where  the  sun  of 
his  presence  would  never  again  shine  ;  she  must  take 
with  her  the  knowledge  that  she  had  been  deceived,  be- 
trayed— that  he  had  mocked  her  while  he  loved  her,  that 
he  had  laughed  at  her  when  lie  kissed  her — that  his  love, 
his  truth,  his  fidelity,  was  all  one  grand  lie.  He  had 
simply  made  her  the  dupe  of  a  passing  wish  for  amuse- 
ment, and  she  had  given  him  her  life. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  stood  at  the 
little  gate  where  FO  short  a  time  since  she  had  stood  with 
him,  "I  wonder  if  there  is  any  truth  in  men?  are  they 
all  alike — all  treacherous,  selfish,  and  wicked  \  That  old 
man  who  saved  my  life,  has  he  ever  broken  a  woman's 
heart ;  or  blighted  a  woman's  life  \  Shall  I  ever  believe 
in  faith,  in  truth,  in  honesty  again  \ " 

She  entered  the  pretty  little  house  that  had  been  so 
beautifully  arranged  for  her ;  the  sight  of  the  familiar 
flowers  and  pictures,  the  chair  that  he  had  always  oc- 
cupied, the  thousand  little  home  treasures,  stabbed  her 
aching  heart  with  fresh  pain.  She  went  into  the  room 
still  strewn  with  the  wreck  of  the  jewels  and  ornaments, 
and  again  fierce,  hot  anger  rose  in  her  heart. 

"  Did  he  think  to  buy  my  soul  with  such  trifles  as 
these  \  "  she  thought,  bitterly. 

Then  a  sudden  sensation  of  faintness  came  over  her. 
It  was  growing  late,  and  she  had  neither  eaten  nor  drunk 
since  morning.  Her  strength  seemed  to  have  left  her. 
She  sunk  half  fainting  on  a  chair,  just  as  Hannah  with 
curiosity  written  on  every  feature,  entered  the  room. 

The  girl  looked  at  her  mistress,  and  some  instinct  t<-l<! 
her,  not  the  whole  truth,  but  something  like  it. 

"  Has  the  master  gone  away  ? "  she  asked,  but  Silvia 
made  no  reply. 

"  You  look  very  ill,"  eaid  Hannah  ;  "  is  there  nothing 
I  can  got  for  you — nothing  that  I  can  do?" 

"  Nothing,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  But  you  have  had  neither  dinner  nor  tea.  Your 
dress  is  all  wet  with  dew.  Let  me,  at  least,  make  you 
some  hot  coffee." 

"I  can  neither   eat  nor  drink,"   said  the  faint  voice. 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  29 

"  The  greatest  kindness  you  can  do  me  is  to  leave  me 
quite  alone." 

The  woman  retired,  and  Silvia,  looking  round,  said  to 
herself : 

"  I  would  not  touch  the  wine  or  the  food  his  money 
has  purchased — no,  not  to  save  my  life." 

Hannah  went  up  to  the  nursery  where  Jennie,  the 
nurse,  sat  with  the  child. 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  the  matter  down-stairs,  Jen- 
nie ? "  she  asked. 

"  No ;  I  did  not  know  there  was  anything  wrong  ; 
what  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  leave  you  to  guess.  Master  was  to  be  home  for 
dinner  ;  he  has  never  come  ;  the  mistress  has  not  broken 
her  fast — where  she  has  been  I  cannot  tell ;  her  dress  is> 
all  wet  with  dew,  and  she  looks  like  a  ghost.  The  dining- 
room  floor  is  covered  with  broken  jewels.  I  tell  you, 
Jennie,  there  is  something  terribly  wrong." 

"  Have  they  had  a  quarrel  ? "  asked  the  nurse  ;  "  most 
husbands  and  wives  do  quarrel." 

"  No ;  for  when  he  went  out  I  saw  him  kissing  her, 
and  I  heard  him  say,  '  I  shall  be  back  soon,  my  darling  ; ' 
that  does  not  look  much  like  quarrelling,  does  it?  " 

"Perhaps  he  has  left  her ;  no  one  knows  who  is  who 
or  what  is  what  in  this  world  ;  they  may  never  have  been 
married  at  all,"  suggested  Jennie,  with  great  calm. 

"  They  were  married  right  enough,  that  I  can  swear, 
as  sure  as  my  name  is  Hannah  Hoyden.  I  know  —  "  but 
her  words  came  abruptly  to  a  close.  Silvia's  white  face 
suddenly  appeared  at  the  door.  She  took  the  child  in 
her  arms. 

I  shall  not  want  anything  more,"  she  said.  "  You  can 
leave  the  baby  with  me,  and,  when  you  have  had  your 
eupper,  go  to  bed." 

They  would  have  remonstrated,  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  white  face  that  commanded  obedience  ;  they 
would  fain  have  remained  with  her,  have  given  what 
poor  comfort  was  in  their  power,  have  waited  upon  her, 
and  made  her  comfortable,  but  the  quiet  dignity  of  her 
sorrow  overawed  them.  They  withdrew  without  one 
word.  But  Hannah,  who  was  warmly  attached  to  her 


30  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

beautiful  young  mistress,  could  not  rest ;  she  went  back 
again,  and  found  Mrs.  Rymer  sitting  with  the  baby  on 
her  knee,  looking  the  very  image  of  desolation  and  sor- 
row. 

Mrs.  Rymer,  let  me  do  something  for  you,"  she  cried, 
pleadingly.  "  Let  Jennie  taka  the  child  again  ;  let  me 
find  you  a  dry  warm  dress,  and  bring  you  some  tea  with 
some  cold  chicken  ;  do  pray  let  me  get  you  something." 

"  I  do  not  want  it.     1  care  for  nothing  but  rest." 

"  Rest,"  thought  the  woman,  "  with  those  wild  eyes, 
and  that  desolate,  despairing  face.  I  am  quite  sure  there 
is  no  rest  for  her  ; "  but  as  it  was  useless  staying  she 
went  away. 

A  woman  less  pure  would  have  been  less  proud.  A 
woman,  whose  conscience  was  not  so  true,  so  loyal,  so 
delicate  would  have  suffered  less.  Many  women  would 
have  said  to  themselves  that  they  Avere  innocent  of  all 
wrong,  and  therefore  they  would  take  what  remained  to 
them.  Many  good  women,  too,  would  have  made  them- 
selves comfortable,  would  have  kept  the  pretty  house, 
and  have  lived  on  the  money  ;  not  so  Silvia  Rymer. 
Her  faith  in  him  had  been  so  perfect,  it  had  always 
seemed  to  her  that  they  had  but  one  soul,  one  life,  one 
heart,  one  interest,  one  pulse  between  them  ;  all  that  was 
altered  now.  If  she  was  not  his  lawful  wife,  she  had  no 
right  to  his  money :  as  for  taking  the  wages  of  sin.  the 
price  of  her  honor,  a  brihe  for  her  soul,  she  would  have 
died  a  thousand  deaths  rather  than  have  done  it,  so  she  eat 
etill  and  silent  in  her  desolation,  waiting  until  all  sliMiM 
be  quiet ;  if  the  little  one  wailed  or  cried  she  hushed 
him  in  a  low  voice,  and  as  she  sat  there,  faint,  desolate, 
and  abandoned,  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  whole  world 
stood  still. 

Quiet  at  last ;  the  voices  of  the  servants  had  died  away. 
She  heard  the  door  of  their  room  fastened,  then  she  rose, 
and  laid  the  child  on  the  bed.  She  went  to  her  room 
and  took  from  the  wardrobe  the  dress  she  had  worn  on 
the  day  she  left  home ;  she  divested  herself  of  every- 
thing that  had  been  purchased  by  him.  In  the  pocket  of 
her  dress  there  still  remained  the  little  purse  she  had 
brought  with  her,  and  it  contained  a  few  pounds,  the 


THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD.  31 

savings  of  her  girlhood,  when  sorrow  had  seemed  far 
from  her  as  the  earth  from  the  sun.  She  dressed  her^ 
self,  and  then  looked  for  the  last  time  round  the  little 
room  where  she  had  been  so  wondronsly  happy.  She 
kept  back  the  burning  tears,  she  checked  the  wild,  bitter 
sobs,  she  trampled  down  the  wild,  terrible  grief  that 
would  have  slain  her  had  she  given  way. 

"  Good-by,"  she  said,  quietly.  "  Here,  where  I  have 
been  so  happy — here,  where  morning  and  night  I  have 
knelt  to  say  my  prayers,  and  have  always  prayed  for 
him  —  here  I  leave  my  protest  against  the  ruin  he  has 
brought  on  me ;  here  I  leave  my  protest  against  my  lost 
honor,  my  blighted  life,  my  broken  heart.  Let  that  pro- 
test  comfort  him  in  the  day  when  he  shall  ask  for  mercy, 
and  find  it  not." 

She  took  the  baby  in  her  arms ;  it  stirred  with  a  plain- 
tive cry,  and  she  laid  her  trembling  lips  on  its  face. 

"  Do  not  cry,  my  darling,"  she  said.  "  You  and  I 
stand  together  alone  before  the  whole  world — we  have 
only  each  other." 

She  wrapped  the  little  one  in  a  thick,  warm  shawl,  and 
clasping  it  in  her  arms,  went  down  the  stairs.  One 
mute  wistful  look  at  the  pretty  rooms,  one  farewell 
glance  at  the  familiar  spot,  then  she  opened  the  door 
and  quitted  the  house.  She  walked  rapidly  through  the 
garden  ;  when  she  reached  the  high-road  she  stood  for 
one  moment  looking  back. 

"  Farewell,  my  home !  "  she  said  ;  "  farewell,  my  love  ! 
farewell  for  evermore  !  " 

Then  with  a  passion  of  tears  she  clasped  the  little  one 
more  tightly  in  her  arms  — she  looked  up  at  the  blue 
heavens. 

"  Heaven  bless  us,  baby  !  "  she  said ;  "  we  are  indeed 
thrown  on  the  world." 


32  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER  YII 

"  SHE   SHALL   BE   MINE." 

IT  had  been  a  cruel  deception — a  heartless,  cruel  case : 
one  that  cried  to  Heaven  for  vengeance  ;  but  one  un- 
happily so  common  that  the  world  does  not  even  stop  to 
eigh  about  it.  A  beautiful  face,  a  pure,  loving,  tender 
heart,  a  simple  country  girl,  as  ignorant  of  the  wicked 
ways  of  the  world  as  of  Greek,  and  a  rich,  titled  libertine. 
How  could  it  end  !  How  could  it  be  other  than  what  it 
was,  considering  that  Basil  Ulric  Vyner,  Lord  Dynecourt, 
had  never  in  his  whole  life  -  denied  himself  one  single 
wish? 

He  would  have  asked  you  why  should  he  ?  He  was 
rich,  almost  fabulously  rich  ;  from  his  very  cradle  he  had 
been  flattered,  fawned  upon,  cringed  to,  waited  on ;  with 
Silvia's  adulations;  he  had  never  known  a  request  un- 
gratified,  a  wish  refused,  or  a  command  disobeyed.  The 
world  was  at  his  feet,  he  had  but  to  speak  and  he  was 
obeyed.  From  his  earliest  boyhood  flattery  and  adulation 
had  floated  round  him.  "Who  had  ever  spoken  the  truth 
to  him  ?  Not  his  foolish,  indulgent,  vain,  worldly  mother. 
She  considered  truth  as  ill-bred  and  very  unfashionable. 
There  was  no  mention  of  it  made  in  the  training  of  the 
heir  of  Dynecourt. 

Do  such  women  know  there  is  a  God?  Certainly, 
Lady  Dynecourt  never  told  her  son  so.  He  was  taken  to 
church  occasionally,  beautifully  dressed,  and  amused  him- 
eelf  during  the  sermon  by  eating  Ion-Ions;  there  his 
religious  training  began  and  ended. 

When  he  chose  to  express  a  wish  for  anything,  what 
was  to  stand  in  his  way  ?  Conscience  ?  Certainly  not ; 
for  he  considered  the  whole  world  made  for  him. 
Honor  ?  No  ;  the  only  kind  of  honor  he  understood  was 
that  he  must  pay  all  his  debts  at  play.  Eeligion  ?  Less 
that  than  anything ;  for  the  simple  reason  that  he  knew 
nothing  whatever  about  it. 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  33 

So  that  when  Basil  Ulric  Vyner,  Lord  Dynecourt,  saw 
beautiful,  innocent,  gentle  Silvia  Lyndon,  he  said  to  him- 
self that  by  fair  means  or  foul  means  he  must  win  her. 
"What  was  to  prevent  his  doing  so  ?  What  was  to  inter- 
fere? 

The  pretty,  picturesque  little  village  of  Rosebank  lies 
among  the  Kentish  hills,  and  near  it  stands  the  grand, 
stately  castle  of  Northcn,  the  seat  of  the  Earl  of  North- 
enden.  Lord  Dynecourt  was  visiting  there,  and  riding 
one  morning  through  the  pretty  little  village  he  saw  what 
he  considered  the  most  beautiful  vision  ever  granted  to 
him.  A  young,  lovely  girl  sitting  on  an  old-fashioned 
etile,  that  led  into  the  meadows.  She  was  making  up 
bouquets  of  wild  flowers.  Looking  he  saw  a  fair,  sweeb 
face,  innocent,  pure,  and  tender  as  the  face  of  an  angel, 
lovely  beyond  all  words ;  sweet  limpid  eyes,  bright  and 
full  of  poetry ;  sweet  smiling  lips,  a  white  and  graceful 
neck,  and  pretty  white  hands.  A  lovely  girlish  figure 
that  had  all  the  simple  grace  and  poetry  of  childhood. 
As  he  looked  at  her  all  unconscious  of  observation,  the 
the  girl  began  to  sing ;  the  musical  voice,  so  clear,  so  soft, 
completed  the  charm. 

Lord  Dynecourt  swore  an  oath  to  himself,  and  he  kept 
it. 

He  stopped  his  horse,  and,  bowing  low,  hat  in  hand, 
asked  her  if  she  could  direct  him  to  Catingdean.  To 
have  seen  her  beautiful  confusion  ;  how  her  face  grew 
crimson  with  warmest  blushes ;  how  she  rose  from  her 
seat,  letting  the  wild  flowers  fall  as  they  would.  He  was 
obliged  to  repeat  his  question  before  she  understood  it. 

He  pretended  not  to  understand,  so  as  to  prolong  those 
delicious  moments,  then  thanked  her,  begged  one  of  her 
flowers,  and  rode  away.  It  seemed  a  very  simple  begin- 
ning to  what  was  in  the  end  a  tragedy  ;  but  the  prologue 
of  a  play  does  not  always  tell  what  the  end  will  be. 

A  few  days  afterward  the  earl,  witli  his  family,  went 
abroad,  and  his  visitors  returned  to  their  homes,  with  the 
exception  of  Lord  Dynecourt,  who  took  lodgings  in 
Rosebank,  that  he  might  the  better  carry  out  the  vow  he 
had  made  to  himself. 

He  contrived  to  see   Silvia  often.    He   would   wait 


34:  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

whole  hours  for  an  opportunity  of  saying  a  few  words  to 
Lor.  He  made  the  best  possible  use  of  his  time,  but  fort 
once  in  his  life  my  Lord  Dynecourt  was  baffled.  Tin' 
girl  was  shielded  from  all  harm  by  her  child-like  inm 
cence'  She  did  no  wrong,  she  did  not  understand  it  whei 
ehe  heard  it.  To  her  simple  notions  love  was  beautiful, 
heavenly,  but  it  ended  in  marriage  ;  she  did  not  even 
know  anything  else.  She  was  pure  in  soul  as  the  lily  is 
pure  in  leaf.  He  propounded  his  horrible  theories  to  her 
the  theories  used  by  men  of  the  world  who  wish  to  dis- 
guise sin  in  poetry.  She  heard  them  with  a  smile  on  her 
lips,  for  in  very  truth  she  did  not  understand  them  ;  they 
did  not  alarm  her  for  the  simple  reason  that  they  were 
like  so  much  Greek  to  her. 

Lord  Dynecourt  was  baffled — baffled  by  her  innocence, 
her  artless  simplicity,  her  unstudied  grace  and  purity. 
He  had  sense  enough  to  see  that  if  he  once  startled  her 
ehe  would  be  like  a  frightened  bird,  she  would  flutter  her 
bright  wings  and  soar  away  out  of  his  sight.  He  was 
obliged  to  submit  to  a  charm  he  had  never  felt  before, 
the  charm  of  angelic  purity. 

"  It  will  take  time,"  he  would  say  to  himself,  "  but  I 
shall  win  in  the  end.  She  shall  be  mine?"1 

He  enjoyed  the  change  :  he  called  himself  Mr.  Rymer ; 
he  carefully  concealed  his  rank  and  title,  and  he  learned 
more  of  life  in  that  short  time  than  he  had  ever  done 
before.  He,  who  prided  himself  on  his  conquests,  who 
boasted  that  he  had  won  more  hearts  than  any  two  men, 
he  who  had  but  to  look  and  to  conquer,  dare  not,  positive- 
ly dare  not  ask  this  beautiful  innocent  girl  to  meet  him 
unknown  to  her  mother.  He  knew  that  she  would  not. 

He  was  obliged  to  humble  himself  still  further.  He 
introduced  himself  to  the  mother,  Mrs.  Lyndon,  a  simple 
widow  lady ;  he  told  her  that  he  was  possessed  of  some 
email  means,  and  that  he  wished  to  marry  her  daughter. 
Mrs.  Lyndon,  who  thought  no  one  good  enough  for  her 
lovely  daughter,  gave  her  consent,  because  she  saw  that 
the  girl  loved  him  with  her  whole  heart ;  and  it  was  as 
Silvia's  betrothed  lover  that  he  had  the  privilege  of  call- 
ing at  the  house  when  he  liked,  of  spending  the  greater 
part  of  his  time  with  her.  How  the  poor  child  loved 


THROWN   ON   THE    WOKLD.  35 

him  could  not  be  told  ;  it  was  as  she  said,  her  soul  grew 
o  his  soul,  her  heart  to  his. 

They  had  been  engaged  some  time  before  he  dare 
Whisper  to  her  that  he  was  not  quite  what  he  seemed  to 
be — that  he  had  great  expectations  of  fortune;  but  her 
time  had  not  passed  unpleasantly  to  him.  She  was  e<> 
lovely,  so  pure,  so  graceful,  that  loving  her  was  to  the 
experienced  man  of  the  world  a  novel  and  piquant  sen- 
sation. He  laid  up  a  store  of  health  during  those  quiet 
months,  that  lasted  him  for  some  years. 

How  he  deceived  her  she  has  told  herself.  He  never 
hinted  at  the  least  difficulty  on  the  score  of  marriage  ;  all 
he  said  was  that  his  fortune  would  depend  on  the  mar- 
riage being  kept  a  secret.  If  she  had  been  a  little  more 
wordly-wise,  a  little  more  experienced,  she  would  have 
seen  through  the  matter  at  once  ;  as  it  was  she  never  even 
dreamed  of  evil.  The  greatest  wrong  she  ever  committed 
was  in  consenting  to  leave  homo  unknown  to  her  mother. 

But  then,  his  arguments  had  been  so  plausible,  he 
loved  her  so  dearly,  and  she  loved  him  so  well,  that  she 
could  not  refuse. 

The  rest  was  easy  enough.  He  was  charmed  enough 
by  her  to  live  one  year  and  a  half  with  her  in  Scotland ; 
then  he  grew  tired  and  left  her.  That  was  how — young, 
beautiful,  and  desolate — she  was  thrown  on  the  world. 


36  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 
LORD  DYNECOURT'S  REFLECTIONS. 

A  BRIGHT  May  day ;  the  London  season  was  just  begin- 
ning ;  everything  looked  cheerful,  bright  and  hopeful. 
The  leaves  were  all  springing  fresh  and  green  on  the 
trees;  the  birds  were  singing  blithest  welcome  t«>  the 
beautiful  spring;  the  flowers  wore  blooming,  the  pink 
hawthorn  was  shining  on  the  hedges,  the  parks  L><  krd 
fresh  and  green.  London  wore  the  a  --poet  of  a  city  ri.-ing 
to  a  fresh  life.  Beautiful  women,  noble  men.  horses  and 
carriages  were  to  be  seen  in  its  magnificent  streets  and 
squares.  There  was  a  sound  of  revelry  by  night  and  by 
day  ;  theatres,  operas,  balls,  concerts  were  all  flourishing  ; 
fetes  and  grand  entertainments  were  on  the  tapis.  It 
was  as  though  the  fashionable  world  had  just  aroused 
itself  to  a  new  and  more  enlivening  time. 

On  the  steps  of  a  fashionable  club  bouse  in  Pall  Mall 
stood  Ulric,  Lord  Dyneconrt.  He  was  watching  the  ani- 
mated scene  around  him,  but  there  was  neither  interest 
nor  amusement  in  his  face  ;  there  was  something  of  pcorn- 
ful  indifference,  as  though  he  had  seen  it  all  so  often  that 
he  was  tired  of  it. 

He  stood  there  for  some  short  time,  then  went  into  the 
hall. 

"  Any  letters?  "  he  asked  of  the  porter. 

"  None  my  lord,"  was  the  reply. 

Then  the  indifferent  expression  deepened  on  Lord 
Dynecourt's  face,  while  the  porter  wondered  why  his 
lordship  seemed  to  be  always  expecting  a  letter  that 
never  came. 

Exchanging  nods  and  salutations.  Lord  Dynecourt 
went  into  the  great  bay-windowed  room  whore  so  many 
of  his  friends  were  assembled.  He  had  gone  there  pur- 
posely to  seek  society,  but  there  was  evidently  none  that 
lie  cared  for.  He  bowed  right  and  left,  then  went  to  the 
great  window  and  sat  down  in  solitary  state.  He  looked 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  37 

on  the  brilliant  panorama  flitting  before  him,  but  no 
gleam  of  interest  brightened  his  face  ;  only  cool,  calm, 
cynical  indifference,  that  deepened  every  now  and  then 
into  contempt.  So  he  sat  for  some  time  in  silence.  At 
length  he  roused  himself. 

"  What  am  I  thinking  of?  "  he  said  :  "  what  has  come 
over  me?  If  it  were  not  madness  to  suppose  such  a  thing, 
I  should  fancy  that  I  was  looking  back  with  regret  to 
Lake  Cottage.  Poor  little  Silvia !  I  wonder  how  she 
took  that  letter?  Philosophically,  I  should  imagine: 
after  the  manner  of  women  —  making  the  best  of  it ; 
enjoying  all  the  solid  comforts  money  brings." 

Yet,  even  as  he  spoke  the  false,  cynical  words,  the 
childlike  face  so  innocent,  so  pure,  so  gentle,  rose  before 
him  and  rebuked  him  ;  a  thousand  memories  of  her  came 
to  him — of  her  fair  face  in  the  morning  light;  of  her 
happy,  blushing,  beautiful  pride  in  the  little  child;  of  her 
loving  gentle,  artless  ways ;  her  pretty,  shy,  timid  caresses 
— memories  that  brought  a  keen,  sharp  pain  in  his  heart, 
cold  and  worldly  as  it  was. 

"  What  has  come  over  me  ?  "  he  asked  himself  again. 
"  I  shall  begin  to  think  soon  that  I  was  in  love — posi- 
tively, truly,  actually  in  love  with  her,  after  all." 

Silence  again ;  and  again  the  same  wearied  look  at  the 
bright  scene  outside,  as  by  sudden  contrast  there  rose 
before  him  the  quiet  lake,  the  pretty  cottage  embowered 
in  trees,  the  sunlit  garden,  and  the  face  that  always  had 
sweetest  smiles  of  welcome  for  him.  Then  he  turned 
impatiently  away. 

"  I  should  not  be  haunted  so  much  by  her,"  he  thought 
peevishly,  "  if  I  had  an  idea  how  she  was  getting  on  ;  it 
is  hearing  nothing  from  her  that  makes  me  nervous." 

As  though  in  answer  to  his  thoughts,  at  that  very 
moment  Mr.  Gresham,  of  the  firm  of  Messrs.  King  & 
Gresham,  passed  by  the  club  window,  and  seeing  Lord 
Dynecourt  there  alone,  raised  his  hat.  Lord  Dynecourt 
made  an  eager  sign  to  him. 

"  You  are  just  the  very  man  I  wanted  to  see,"  he 
cried.  "  Have  you  heard  anything  yet  from  Brae  ?  " 

"  Not  one  line,"  replied  the  lawyer. 

"  There  must  be  a  considerable  sum  of  money  waiting 


38  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

for  her,"  said  Lord  Dynecourt.  "  Has  she  never  applied 
for  any  \ " 

"  We  have  never  received  one  line  from  her,  my  lord, 
good,  bad,  or  indifferent." 

"  But  that  seems  very  strange,"  said  Lord  Dynecourt. 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  replied  the  lawyer,  an 
expression  of  something  like  disgust  crossing  his  face. 

"  It  never  was  a  case  of  money,  if  I  understood  your 
lordship  right." 

"  Not  everything ;  it  cannot,  for  example,  heal  a  broken 
heart  or  soothe  wounded  honor." 

"No,  no,  perhaps  not;  but  then  money  can  do  any- 
thing." 

Lord  Dynecourt  looked  up  with  a  sneer  on  his  hand- 
some face. 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  that  I  am  talking  to  a  lawyer," 
he  said:  "a  lawyer  of  the  nineteenth  century,  too.  'A 
broken  heart.'  It  is  hard  enough  to  believe  in  hearts  at 
all,  to  say  nothing  of  broken  ones." 

"We  see  a  great  deal  in  our  profession,  Lord  Dyne- 
court.  We  perhaps  see  more  of  the  real  disinterestedness 
of  women  than  you  can  ever  do.  We  had  a  case  not 
unlike  yours  left  to  our  management  only  last  year.  A 
beautiful  girl  she  was,  deceived  by  the  pretence  of  a  false 
marriage.  We  were  empowered  to  make  the  most  hand- 
some provision  for  her.  She  refused  even  to  hear  from 
us  or  to  see  us ;  but  she  starved  herself  on  the  step  of  her 
betrayer's  door." 

Lord  Dynecourt's  face  grew  very  pale. 

"  How  extremely  unpleasant !  "  he  said.  "  What  a 
cheerful  companion  you  are,  Mr.  Gresham.  Have  you 
made  inquiries  at  the  cottage  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  quite  without  result.  The  only  information 
we  could  obtain  was,  that  the  lady  with  her  little  child 
had  suddenly  disappeared.  There  was  a  white-haired  old 
minister,  the  Reverend  Something  Douglass,  very  much 
interested  in  her  :  but  no  one  had  the  slightest  clew  as  to 
her  whereabouts." 

"  Well,  we  have  done  the  best  we  can.  Of  course,  you 
will  let  me  know  at  once  when  you  do  hear  ?  " 

"  That  I  will,  most  certainly,"  replied  the  lawyer,  as 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  39 

he  turned  away  ;  "  and  that,"  he  added  to  himself,  "  will 
be  never." 

"  She  never  can  have  taken  the  matter  so  deeply  to 
heart  as  to  have  destroyed  herself,"  said  Lord  Dynecourt, 
with  a  shudder.  "  Upon  my  word,  it  seems  an  absurd 
thing  for  a  sinner  like  myself  to  say,  but  I  do  begin  to 
wish  that  I  had  left  the  girl  alone." 

"  You  are  looking  very  grave,  Ulric,"  said  a  cheery 
voice.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

Looking  round  impatiently,  Lord  Dynecourt  saw  the 
merry,  handsome  face  of  Captain  Harry  Fraser,  his  chos- 
en, intimate,  and  dearest  friend. 

"  What  do  you  think  they  are  saying  about  you, 
Ulric  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,  and  most  certainly  I  care  little,"  he 
replied. 

"  They  say  you  are  making  yourself  miserable  over 
that  affair  in  Scotland." 

"What  affair?"  interrupted  Lord  Dynecourt,  quickly. 

"  Nay  ;  how  can  I  tell  ?  You  do  not  trust  me  with  your 
little  secrets,  nor  do  I  care  to  pry  into  them  ;  only,  com- 
mon sense  tells  us  that  when  the  brightest  star  in  our 
galaxy  vanishes  for  over  eighteen  months  at  a  time,  that 
particular  star  is  bent  on  mischief  somewhere." 

"If  I  am  the  'star,'  you  are  mistaken  in  attributing 
any  particular  mischief  to  me.  I  was  tired  to  death  of 
London,  so  I  kept  out  of  it." 

"  You  know  your  own  affairs  best ;  but  there  is  a  story 
going  round  the  clubs  of  a  pretty  girl  and  a  little  cot- 
tage." 

"  Do  not  talk  nonsense,  Harry ;  such  stories  are  not 
pleasant  What  if  Lady  Clotilde  heard  them?  " 

The  young  captain's  face  changed  its  whole  expression. 

"  You  ought  not  even  to  utter  her  name,  after  talking 
as  we  have  done,"  he  replied.  "  Lady  Clotilde  is — well, 
to  speak  frankly,  she  is  a  thousand  times  too  good  for 
you,  Ulric." 

"  You  would  like  her  yourself,"  said  his  lordship, 
8neorin<;ly. 

"  I  should  Ilka  to  be  worthy  to  mention  her  name," 


40  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

said  Captain  Fraser,  with  a  deep  flush  on  his  handsome 
face ;  "  and  that  is  what  neither  you  nor  I  am." 

"  What  humility  !  I  am  going  to  call  there  now ;  come 
•with  me,  Harry;  you  can  do  all  the  talking.  I  do  not 
feel  quite  like  myself  this  morning,  though  I  can  hardly 
tell  why." 

"  I  shall  perhaps  be  in  the  way,"  said  the  captain, 
modestly.  "  Lovers  do  not  often  require  a  third  party." 

"  Lovers  !  nonsense  !  Lady  Clotilde  has  too  much  good 
sense  for  that  kind  of  thing.  When  once  you  have  asked 
a  woman  to  marry  you  and  the  day  is  named,  what  more 
is  there  to  say  ?  " 

Ah,  what  indeed  ?  Suddenly  before  him  rose  the  long 
hours  he  had  spent  in  the  green  lanes  of  Rosebank,  con- 
tent to  look  at  Silvia's  face  and  listen  to  her  voice. 
What  had  they  talked  of  through  the  long  summer 
hours  ?  Love !  only  love !  How  he  would  have  resented 
the  intrusion  of  a  third  party  there. 

What  had  they  talked  of  in  that  pretty  cottage  by  the 
lake,  hour  after  hour,  as  they  sat  on  the  shining  shores, 
or  in  the  sunlit  gardens  ?  Love  !  only  love !  and  he  had 
not  tired  of  it.  The  music  of  that  sweet  voice  telling 
him,  over  and  over  again,  how  dear  he  was  to  her; 
telling  all  her  pure  thoughts,  all  her  bright,  gentle,  beauti- 
ful fancies. 

"  Ulric,"  cried  his  companion,  impatiently,  "  what  are 
you  thinking  about  ?  " 

And  Lord  Dynecourt,  rousing  himself,  thought  with  a 
deep  sigh  :  "  I  must  have  been  in  love  with  Silvia,  after 
all/ 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  4:1 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   SLIP   OF   THE   TONGUE. 

ONE  of  the  grandest  and  most  beautiful  mansions  in 
Hyde  Park  is  called  Stanfield  House,  the  town  residence 
of  Lord  and  Lady  Yoyse.  Every  one  knows  Stanfield 
House  from  the  magnficence  of  its  architecture,  the 
splendor  of  its  interior,  the  beautiful  view  obtained  from 
the  windows,  over  the  park.  On  this  bright  May  morn- 
ing a  young  girl  stands  at  the  open  window  of  a  balcony, 
looking  shyly  every  now  and  then  at  the  grand  entrance 
gates.  A  girl,  fair  in  face,  with  a  delicate,  wild-rose 
bloom ;  a  graceful,  noble  head,  proudly  set  on  a  neck  of 
unrivalled  whiteness — a  head  that,  for  statuesque  beauty 
and  perfection,  might  have  worn  the  diadem  of  a  queen. 
From  head  to  foot  she  was  a  patrician.  She  had  a  calm, 
lovely,  high-bred  face — refined,  eloquent,  as  though  the 
soul  shone  through  it ;  a  figure  of  perfect  symmetry,  full 
of  curves  and  lines  that  would  have  enchanted  a  sculptor  ; 
white,  slender  hands,  with  a  soft  pink  flush  on  the  finger 
tips ;  little  feet,  that  might  have  worn  Cinderella's  slip- 
pers. If  you  had  met  her  in  an  African  desert,  you 
would  have  known  her  for  what  she  was — an  aristocratic, 
high-bred  Englishwoman.  Disguise  her  as  you  would, 
she  could  never  be  taken  for  anything  else. 

People  say  that  kind  of  thing  is  all  nonsense — that  in 
the  country  villages  of  England  you  find  greater  beauty 
than  the  higher  classes  can  boast.  That  may  be,  but  it 
lacks  the  cultivation  and  refinement.  To  those  high-boru 
English  girls  beauty  descends  cultivated,  improved  in 
each  generation.  The  difference  is  the  same  as  between 
a  fair  rose  that  grows  wild  on  the  hedges — that  is  blown 
by  the  wind  and  damped  by  the  dew  —  and  the  garden 
rose,  upon  whose  color,  shape,  preservation  all  the  gar- 
dener's skill  has  been  brought  to  bear. 

Lady  Clotilde  Yoyse  was  such   a  garden   rose.     The 
Yoyses  were  one  of  the  oldest  English  families.     Her 


42  THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD. 

beauty  of  face  and  form,  her  high  spirit,  her  noble  soul, 
her  bright  intelligence  came  to  her  from  generations  of 
heroes.  She  was  the  only  daughter  of  the  present  Lord 
Yoyse,  and  greater  care  could  not  have  been  expended  on 
her  had  she  been  heiress  to  the  crown  of  a  great  king- 
dom. 

From  her  earliest  infancy  love  had  shielded  her  from 
even  the  breath  of  harm  or  evil.  She  only  knew  one 
cide  of  it — its  beauty  and  brightness.  She  only  knew 
one  phase  of  humanity,  and  that  was  its  noblest  and  best. 

Dimly  as  she  realized  the  fact  that  far  away  from  her 
bright,  beautiful  world  there  dwelt  untaught  savages,  so 
she  knew  that  sin  and  death,  sickness  and  sorrow  were  in 
the  world ;  they  had  never  touched  her,  had  never 
been  near  her.  More  dimly  still  she  understood  that 
there  were  sin  and  evil ;  those  she  had  never  seen. 
What  does  the  queen  rose  of  a  conservatory  know  of  the 
faded  flowers  trampled  underneath  the  hedge  ?  Heaven 
shone  above  her ;  the  love  of  father,  mother,  and  friends 
surrounded  her  ;  she  lived  among  all  that  was  most  beau- 
tiful and  refined ;  how  was  the  knowledge  of  evil  or  of 
sin  to  creep  into  such  an  Eden  as  hers  ? 

Loved,  cherished,  guarded  carefully  as  some  most  pre- 
cious jewel  or  delicate  flower,  she  had  grown  up  lovely, 
refined,  and  intelligent ;  not  proud  actually,  though  from 
her  face  one  would  have  thought  it.  Accomplished, 
fitted  to  take  any  place  in  society,  no  matter  how  high, 
Lady  Clotilde  Yoyse  was  what  Captain  Fraser  called  her 
— perfection.  All  the  instincts  of  her  proud  race  were 
strong  in  her  —  she  would  have  preferred  any  kind  of 
death  to  dishonor,  any  kind  of  torture  to  shame,  any 
punishment  to  untruth.  She  was  the  ideal  of  a  pure  and 
noble  lady;  not  frank  of  speech,  as  was  Silvia.  She 
could  never  have  clasped  her  arms  round  a  lover's  neck, 
and  have  poured  out  her  love  in  warm  words,  as  did  Sil- 
via. She  was  more  reticent.  Where  Silvia  would  have 
wept  aloud,  Lady  Clotilde  would  have  folded  her  grief  to 
her  heart  and  have  died  of  it  rather  than  let  it  be  known. 
'  -'d  this  girl  loved,  and  was  pledged  to  marry,  Basil 

;*:e  Yyner,  Lord  Dynecourt,  who  had  won  a  woman's 


THEOWIT   ON   THE    WOELD.  43 

heart,  Broken  it,  and  flung  it  away,  with  even  more  indif- 
ference than  he  laid  down  a  faded  flower. 

On  this  May  morning  Lady  Clotilde  wore  a  dress  of 
rich  Indian  muslin,  elaborately  trimmed  with  blue  rib- 
bons, that  harmonized  well  with  the  fair  face  and  soft 
brown  hail-.  Her  white  hands  were  filled  with  flowers — 
they  were  a  passion  with  her ;  she  never  was  happier 
than  when  among  them. 

Suddenly,  jver  the  fair,  high-bred  face  there  rises  a 
warm  beautiful  blush.  She  leaves  the  balcony  hastily: 
not  for  worlds  would  she  have  allowed  Lord  Dynecourt 
to  know  that  she  had  been  looking  or  waiting  for  him. 
She  went  into  the  drawing-room,  where  Lady  Yoyse  sat 
at  her  writing  table. 

"  Mamma,"   she  said,  "  here  is  Basil." 
Lady  Voyse  looked  up  with  a  smile.     She  touched  her 
daughter's  fair  face. 

"  These  roses  are  blooming  in  his  honor.  He  would 
be  very  proud  if  lie  saw  those  blushes,  Clotilde." 

The  girl  looked  in  her  mother's  face  with  a  wistful 
expression  on  her  own. 

"  Do  you  think,  mamma,"  she  asked,  "  that  he  loves 
me  so  very  much  ?  " 

"  How  could  he  help  it,  my  darling  ?  Of  course  he 
loves  you." 

"  Sometimes  I  think  he  is  proud,  silent,  and  reserved. 
He  talks  to  me,  but  he  seems  to  be  thinking  of  some- 
thing else." 

Lady  Voyse  laughed. 

"  That  is  one  of  lovers'  fancies,"  she  said.  "  Lord 
Dynecourt  has  a  proud,  stately  manner  that  I  like.  I 
think  his  fashion  of  making  love  quite  chivalrous." 

The  girl  bent  her  beautiful,  flower-like  face  over  her 
mother. 

"  You  know  best,"  she  said.  "  If  you  are  satisfied 
mamma,  so  am  I." 

Lady  Yoyse  had  no  time  to  answer,  for  the  two  gentle- 
men were  announced,  and  entered  together. 

If  Lord  Dynecourt  had  but  understood  the  beauty,  the 
grandeur  of  the  love  given  to  him,  if  he  had  but  looked 
with  a  lover's  eye  at  that  beautiful  face,  he  would  have 


44  THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD. 

been  a  wiser,  better  man.  As  it  was  ho  remained  perfect- 
ly indifferent ;  he  never  saw  the  light  in  those  proud, 
frank  eyes,  lowered  at  his  approach  lest  he  should  see  the 
happiness  shining  there. 

He  addressed  a  few  words  to  Lady  Yoyse,  and  then 
seated  himself  by  Lady  Clotilde's  side. 

The  young  soldier  looked  with  longing  eyes  ;  he  would 
have  given  much  to  have  been  in  his  friend's  place.  His 
love  was  worth  that  of  a  thousand  men  like  Lord  Dyne- 
court;  but  there  was  no  hope  for  him.  He  was  but  a 
younger  son — a  captain  in  the  guards — deeply  in  debt. 
Lord  Voyse's  heiress  was  not  for  him. 

He  was  honestly  and  most  infatuatedly  in  love  with 
her.  In  other  society  the  captain  held  his  own  most  gal- 
lantly ;  he  could  be  cool,  sarcastic,  witty,  gay,  amusing ; 
in  her  presence  he  was  literally  dumb,  content  to  sit  and 
watch  her. 

The  conversation  was  not  very  brisk  between  the  two 
lovers.  Lady  Yoyse  had  taken  the  gallant  captain  in 
hand,  and  was  cross-questioning  him  briskly  about  the 
last  review.  Lady  Clotilde  looked  once  toward  the 
flower-filled  gallery,  and  wondered  shyly  why  her  lover 
did  not  ask  her  to  go  out  among  the  flowers. 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  bright  morning,"  said  Lord  Dyne- 
court,  at  last.  "  You  are  going  out,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  to  ride." 

She  half  thought  he  would  offer  to  escort  her,  but  he 
never  even  thought  of  it. 

"  How  fond  you  are  of  flowers,  Clotilde !  "  he  said 
suddenly,  watching  the  white  fingers  among  the  blossoms. 

She  looked  up  at  him. 

"  Yon  cannot  guess  how  dearly  I  love  them,  Basil," 
she  replied. 

"I  am  half-inclined  to  be  jealous  of  them,"  he  said, 
languidly. 

A  lovely  smile  crossed  her  lips. 

"  Nay,"  she  said,  "  there  is  no  need  ;  I  do  not  love 
them  one-half  so  dearly  as  I  love  you." 

"  Is  that  true,  Silvia  f "  he  asked.  Then  his  face 
grew  crimson  as  he  remembered  the  terrible  blunder  he 
had  made.  What  possessed  him  to  mention  that  name  ? 


THKOWN   ON   THE   WOELD.  4:5 

She  looked  up  again  quickly. 

"  Silvia !  "  she  repeated.  "  What  a  pretty  name  !  But 
why  do  you  call  me  Silvia  ?  " 

"  Did  I  do  so  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  horrible  feeling  of 
guilt.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  did  not  know  it." 

"  But  why  was  the  name  in  your  inind  ?  Do  you 
know  any  one  named  Silvia,  Basil  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  slowly,  as  though  trying  to  remem- 
ber. "  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  do.  Silvia — no  ;  but  I 
remember  now  why  the  name  was  in  my  mind." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  ?  "  she  asked,  quietly. 

"  Most  certainly.  I  read  a  story  last  night.  What 
was  it  called  ?  —  let  me  think  — '  Silvia's  Lovers.'  I  was 
very  much  struck  with  it." 

"  Will  you  get  it  for  me  ? "  she  said.  "  I  should  like 
to  read  it." 

"  I  will  send  it  to  you  to-day,"  he  replied. 

She  smiled  brightly,  perfectly  satisfied.  When  he  rose 
to  take  leave,  she  held  out  her  pretty  white  hand. 

"  You  like  the  name  of  Clotilde  better  than  Silvia,  do 
you  not,  Basil  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  he  replied  ;  and  he  laughed  to  him- 
self as  he  quitted  the  house — a  laugh  that  Lady  Clotilde 
would  not  have  liked  to  hear. 


CHAPTER  X. 

DOUBLE  TREACHERY. 

"  I  HAVE  to  be  married,"  said  Lord  Dynecourt  to  Cap- 
tain Fraser,  "  and  the  sooner  it  is  over  the  better." 

The  captain  looked  at  the  handsome,  wearied,  indiffer- 
ent face. 

"  You  take  things  very  coolly,"  he  said.  "  I  should 
be  more  than  half  mad  with  such  a  proopect  as  you  have 
before  you." 

"  I  am  not  given  to  raptures.  I  am  thankful  to  say 
that  it  would  require  an  immense  amount  to  drive  me 
mad." 

"  Well,  there  is  one  thing  I  must  say,  Basil  —whether 
it  offend  you  or  not,  I  do  not  care  j  I  would  not  be  so 


46  THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD. 

indifferent,  so  used  up,  so  tired  of  everything  as  you  are, 
not  even  to  have  your  title  and  fortune." 
Lord  Dynecourt  laughed. 

"  1  ain  not  at  all  offended,"  he  replied,  "  not  in  the 
least.  In  fact,  I  consider  you  have  paid  me  a  great  com- 
pliment. I  may  say  in  return  that  I  wish  you  all  possible 
joy  of  your  capability  for  rapture.  I  consider  that  a 
man  has  attained  the  chief  object  of  existence  when  he 
is  neithei  affected  by  joy  nor  sorrow — when,  in  fact,  he 
has  ceased  to  feel." 

"  But  you  were  not  always  so,  Basil.  I  can  remember 
when  you  were  excited  about  trifles,  angry  without  cause, 
just  like  other  men." 

"  I  was  not  a  lotus-eater  in  those  days,  Harry ;  and 
now  I  am  one  of  the  idlest." 

The  captain  smoked  away  furiously  at  his  cigar. 
"  As  I  was  saying,  Harry,  it  has  to  be  done.    I  tell  you 
in  confidence,  I  consider  the  whole  matter  a  most  horri- 
ble nuisance ;  but  it  has  to  be  done,  so  the  more  quickly 
it  is  off  my  mind  the  better  I  shall  enjoy  my  life." 
"So  it  seems,"  said  the  captain,  dryly. 
"A  wedding   in    the   country  I   could   not   survive," 
he  continued.     Perhaps  the  recollection  of  country  fields, 
and   lanes,  and   flowers,  was   bitter  to   him.     "  I    could 
not  go  through  it.     Villagers'  children  strewing  flowers, 
church  bells  pealing.     I  have  not  the  strength  for  that 
kind  of  thing,  nor  have  I  the  patience." 

"  Which  is  more  to  the  point,"  murmured  his  friend. 
"  There  is  some  dash,  something  lively  about  a  wedding 
in  town  ;  it  seems  the  very  thing  to  finish  up  the  season 
with.     Will  you  be  my  best  man,  Harry  ?  " 

"  Have  you  no  relations — no  one  whom  you  ought  to 
ask  ? " 

"  No,  I  have  no  one  to  please  but  myself,"  replied  Lord 
Dynecourt.  "  I  shall  go  to  Stanfield  House  this  morning 
and  suggest  the  middle  of  June  for  the  wedding.  Spend 
as  much  time  with  me  aa  you  can,  Harry,  until  the  event 
comes  off.  I  have  been  quite  out  of  sorts  lately." 

As  he  said,  so  he  did.  He  went  that  very  morning  to 
Stanfield  House,  and  asked  to  see  Lady  Clotilde.  He 
epoke  hurriedly  when  he  did  speak;  his  lips  were  hot 


THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD.  47 

and  dry.  Once  during  the  interview  he  astonished  Lady 
Clotilde  by  turning  very  pale  and  asking  for  a  glass  of 
water.  Surely  remorse  was  never  busy  with  such  a  vio- 
jent,  heartless,  cynical  man  of  the  world  ;  or  had  memory 
carried  him  back  to  that  humble  little  cottage  at  Rose- 
bank,  and  the  sweet  face  that  would  smile  there  no  more. 
She  looked  timidly  at  him,  her  face  crimson  with 
blushes. 

"  Basil,"  she  said,  gently,  "  do  you  prefer  being  mar- 
ried in  London?  We  have  such  a  beautiful  old  church 
near  us,  and  a  wedding  at  the  Park  would  be  really  a 
treat  for  all  our  tenantry." 

"  It  would  not  be  a  treat  to  7ne,  darling.  1  prefer  the 
town." 

It  was  the  first  time  during  their  courtship  that  he  had 
used  such  a  loving  term  to  her.  She  looked  at  him,  her 
eyes  wet  with  happy  tears. 

"I  will  try  to  make  you  so  happy,  Basil,''  she  con- 
tinued. "  I  shall  learn  all  your  likes  and  dislikes,  study 
all  your  tastes,  seek  your  wishes." 

She  spoke  so  earnestly,  so  fervently — and  such  demon- 
strations  were  rare  with  her — it  was  like  a  shock  jarring 
on  each  nerve  when  he  answered  carelessly  : 

"  You  are  very  good,  Clotilde ;  we  shall  get  on  all 
right,  I  arn  sure." 

Her  eyes  lingered  on  his  face  wonderingly.  "Was  it 
only  that  he  was  reserved  in  his  manner,  or  did  he  not 
love  her  ?  He  caught  the  glance,  and  its  wistful  pathos 
touched  him ;  he  took  her  hand  in  his. 

"  There  are  different  kinds  of  men  in  the  world,  Clo- 
tilde," he  said.  "  Some  say  more  than  they  mean,  others 
mean  more  than  they  say.  I  belong  to  the  latter  class. 
I  have  not  the  art  of  expressing  my  feelings  eloquently, 
but  you  must  never  doubt  that  the  feelings  are  there." 

"  I  will  remember,"  she  said,  gently,  but  she  still  look- 
ed puzzled. 

"  What  is  it,  Clotilde  ? "  he  asked  ;  "  there  is  a  question 
in  your  face." 

"  I  was  thinking  over  what  you  had  said,"  she  replied. 
"  Basil,  do  not  all  men  speak  the  truth  ?  " 
Her  innocence,  her  purity,  her  truth  smote  him  like  a 


4:8  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

sharp  sword.  Bow  little,  dear  Heaven !  how  little  she 
knew  of  this  world,  wherein  truth  is  held  of  so  little 
account,  and  honor  even  less !  Did  all  men  speak  the 
truth?  What  was  he  speaking  when  he  sat  there  holding 
her  hand  in  his,  and  talking  about  the  time  when  she 
should  be  his  wife  ? 

All  things  are  accomplished  in  time.  Lord  and  Lady 
Voyse,  who  both  cordially  approved  their  daughter's 
choice,  gave  a  most  free  and  happy  consent  to  the  time 
for  the  marriage.  They  had  known  Lord  Dynecourt 
from  his  earliest  boyhood ;  they  knew  him  as  a  peer  of 
the  realm,  as  a  worthy  nobleman,  a  large  landed  proprie- 
tor, a  man  with  a  career  before  him  that  he  might  make 
famous  if  he  would ;  a  man  whose  name  was  ancient  as 
their  own.  They  had  never  heard  anything  against  him  ; 
indeed,  all  that  his  worst  enemy  ever  said,  was  that  he 
had  been  a  "little  wild ;"  and  those  words  are  inter- 
preted by  different  people  according  to  their  dispositions. 

Everything  was  settled  and  arranged.  Chilmes  Royal 
was  refurnished  ;  decorators,  upholsterers,  gardeners,  peo- 

Ele  of  all  kinds  were  busily  at  work  there.  The  future 
ady  Dynecourt's  jewels  were  on  view  at  the  celebrated 
establishment  of  Horton  Brothers.  Madame  Celeste  ex- 
hibited the  trousseau  to  a  crowd  of  admiring  spectators  ; 
the  carriages  and  horses  were  to  be  seen  at  Falcome's. 
There  had  not  been  so  great  a  sensation  over  a  wedding 
since  the  lovely  Blanche  Seymour  was  married. 

The  happy  day  dawned  at  last,  the  twentieth  of  June, 
and  a  grander  ceremonial  had  never  been  witnessed,  even 
in  St.  George's  Hanover  Square.  The  very  creme  of  the 
elite  were  present.  A  royal  duke  and  a  royal  princess 
were  among  the  invited  guests. 

The  papers  gave  a  long  list  of  gorgeous  wedding  pres- 
ents, a  long  list  of  the  invited  guests,  an  elaborate  de- 
scription of  the  superb  wedding-breakfast  at  Stanfield 
House,  but  they  did  not  tell  of  the  most  touching 
incident  at  that  magnificent  ceremonial.  It  was  when  the 
travelling  carriage  stood  at  the  door,  and  Lady  Clotilde 
Dynecourt  had  gone  to  change  her  dress. 

Lady  Voyse  called  the  bridegroom  to  her. 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  49 

"  Basil,"  she  said,  "  I  have  gained  a  son,  I  hope,  not 
lost  a  daughter," 

He  made  some  kind  reply,  but  Lady  Voyse  hardly 
seemed  satisfied. 

"  I  have  given  you  this  day,"  she  said,  "  the  greatest 
treasure  that  I  have  on  earth — money  and  lands  are  noth- 
ing in  comparison.  Oh,  Basil,  you  will  be  kind  to  her  ? 
She  has  never  heard  an  unkind  or  careless  word  ;  she  has 
been  so  tenderly  loved  and  cared  for.  You  will  deal 
gently  with  her  ?  " 

The  mother's  tears  touched  him  as  nothing  else  that 
day  had  done. 

"  I  will  be  kind  to  her,"  he  said.  "  You  may  trust 
her  safely  in  my  hands." 

Then,  amidst  a  shower  of  good  wishes,  congratulations, 
and  blessings,  they  departed  to  begin  that  new  life  that 
seemed  to  Clotilde,  Lady  Dynecourt,  like  heaven  below. 

The  treachery  was  accomplished,  yet  the  heavens  did 
not  fall  ;  the  sun  shone  on  and  the  flowers  bloomed  fairly, 
as  though  no  taint  of  sin  or  falsehood  had  ever  rested  on 
the  fair  earth. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE    FRIENDLESS    WANDERER. 

ON  the  very  day  that  the  wedding  of  the  Right  Honor- 
able Basil  Ulric,  Lord  Dynecourt  was  celebrated,  a  soli- 
tary, desolate,  heart-broken  girl  entered  the  great  city  of 
London,  alone,  and  on  foot.  A  girl  half -crazed  with 
despair — half-mad  with  the  bitterness  of  her  pain,  clasp- 
ing in  her  arms  a  little  child,  only  saved  from  seekii:. 
her  own  death  because  she  had  given  a  promise  to  kefj. 
her  life  sacred. 

A  young  girl  with  a  white,  desolate  face,  weary,  and 
beautiful,  whose  tender  eyes  looked  in  vain  among  the 
crowds  that  passed  her  by  for  one  kindly  face,  for  one 
sympathetic  look.  She  was  a  woman,  alone,  and  in  a 
crowd.  She  met  the  usual  fate  of  such  a  one.  Some 
pushed  rudely  by  her,  others  hurt  the  tender  arms  by 
knocking  against  her ;  some  looked  into  the 


50  THROWN    OHT    THE    WOKLD. 

face  with  an  ugly  smile  ;  some  laughed,  and  some  scoffed 
and  jeered  ;  bat  not  one,  dear  Heaven  !  not  one  among 
the  vast  crowd  gave  her  a  kindly  glance  or  word.  She 
stood  alone  on  the  great  bridge.  Day  was  drawing  to  a 
close  there,  the  sky  was  covered  with  great  flushes  of 
crimson,  on  the  broad  flowing  stream  there  was  a  reflec- 
tion of  the  rose-colored  glare  ;  little  boats  glided  down  the 
river,  noisy  steamers  went  smoking  under  the  bridge,  the 
tall  masts  of  the  numerous  ships  looked  dim  in  the  even- 
ing light ;  and  still  that  great  stream  of  humanity  flowed 
on  and  on. 

A  great  stream  of  men,  women,  and  children  ;  of  good 
and  bad,  of  rich  and  poor,  of  rogues  and  honest  men, 
until  one's  eyes  ached  with  the  never-ending  change.  She 
had  found  a  place  on  one  of  the  stone  seats  of  London 
Bridge,  and  there,  hour  after  hour,  she  sat  watching  the 
passers-by.  Sometimes  the  little  child  in  her  arms  would 
etir  and  then  fall  asleep  again. 

Occasionally  one,  warmer  hearted  than  the  others, 
would  look  sadly  at  that  desolate,  beautiful  face,  and 
wonder  what  had  brought  her  there ;  again,  some  one 
would  address  a  kindly  word  to  her,  but  the  white  lips 
were  never  parted.  She  watched  the  crimson  fade  from 
the  sky :  she  heard  the  sound  of  innumerable  clocks ;  she 
noted  the  never-decreasing  crowd,  but  she  made  no  offer 
to  move.  Where  was  she  to  go  ? 

Far  down  the  river  the  lights  began  to  gleam.  Sudden- 
ly there  came  to  her  mind  some  sad,  sweet  lines  that  she 
had  read  not  many  months  back  witli  him.  They  were 
sitting  in  the  shade  of  a  great  drooping  lime-tree  on  the 
borders  of  the  beautiful  lake,  and  she  asked  him  to  read 
,o  her.  Among  other  poems  he  read  this : 

"  Where  the  lamps  quiver 
Far  down  the  river 
Houseless  and  homeless 
She  wandered  by  night." 

She  could  remember  how  her  heart  ached  as  she  listen- 
ed, and  a  shudder  had  passed  over  her;  she  remembered, 
too,  how  he  had  stopped  to  caress  her,  how  he  had  kissed 
1:«.T  f  ;icv.  liulf  laughing,  half  scolding,  because  the  was  so 
tender  of  heart  and  so  sensitive,  the  whole  scene  rose  be- 


THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD.  51 

fore  her  as  though  she  had  taken  part  in  it  br.t  yesterday. 
How  little  had  she  thought  then  that  such  a  fate  would 
ever  be  hers.  The  tree  was  still  standing,  the  beautiful, 
calm  lake  was  glistening  in  the  evening  sun,  but  where 
was  he,  and  where  was  she  ? 

A  low  moan  that  she  could  not  suppress  came  from  her 
lips,  and  a  woman  passing  by  bent  down  and  asked  ]ler  if 
she  was  ill. 

"111?" 

She  repeated  the  word  with  a  vague  feeling  of  wonder. 
What  was  physical  pain  compared  to  the  torture  eating 
away  her  life  ?  Ill — why,  all  the  illness  in  the  world  put 
together  could  never  cause  the  anguish  she  was  suffering 
then.  She  was  not  ill — only  desolate,  forsaken,  betrayed. 

She  answered  with  such  a  vague  manner  —  such  an 
absent  look  in  her  forlorn  face — that  the  woman  thought 
she  must  be  mad,  and  passed  on. 

Still  that  vast  crowd  hurried  on,  never  growing  less. 
Darkness  had  fallen  over  the  city  and  the  river;  the  lamps 
gleamed  in  the  distance  like  golden  stars;  there  was  a 
low,  sullen  murmur  as  though  the  waves  of  the  stream 
were  rising  and  then  the  crowd  lessened.  It  was  dark 
now,  and  she  had  been  sitting  there  since  noon.  Others 
would  have  remembered  that  they  were  cold,  faint, 
hungry — not  she  ;  she  remembered  only  that  she  was 
deserted  and  alone. 

The  great  towers  and  steeples  of  the  city  loomed  dark- 
ly before  her ;  the  myriad  murmurs  filled  her  ears. 
Where  in  all  that  vast  babel  was  there  a  refuge  for  her? 
Where  was  a  roof  to  shelter  her — a  face  to  look  kindly 
into  hers — a  voice  to  shield  her  ? 

The  dark,  running  river  seemed  nearer  to  her  than  any- 
thing else  ;  the  stars  were  shining  bright  and  calm  ;  thoy 
were  reflected  in  its  clear  depth.  At  what  a  refuge  \vas 
there!  —  what  peace  —  what  oblivion!  It  was  only  to 
stand  on  the  parapet  for  one  half  moment — to  spring 
over — perhaps  one  minute  of  agony,  and  then — peace  ! 

She  looked  with  yearning  eyes;  she  rose,  and  some- 
thing in  the  forlorn  movement  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  policeman  on  duty.  She  looked  agaiu  at  the  river 


52  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

then  the  memory  of  her  promise  rose  before  her  like  the 
flaming  sword  of  an  angel,  and  drove  her  back. 

"  Nay,"  said  a  voice  behind  her ;  "  you  must  not  do 
that ;  life  may  be  very  hard  with  you,  but  you  must  not 
do  that." 

She  raised  her  white  face  and  saw  a  policeman  stand- 
ing beside  her. 

"  I  was  not  going  to  drown  myself,"  she  said,  simply. 

"  That's  right ;  there's  many  a  poor  girl — young  as  you 
— comes  here  for  that  purpose  and  no  other." 

"  Not  I,"  she  replied,  with  a  shudder.     "  I  did  not." 

"  So  much  the  better." 

Then  he  appeared  to  see  the  beautiful,  white  face  more 
clearly. 

"  Why,"  he  cried,  in  astonishment,  "  you  were  sitting 
here  this  afternoon  ;  I  saw  you." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  drearily.  "  I  have  been  here  a 
\ong  time," 

"  It  may  be  no  business  of  mine,"  said  the  man  ;  "  but 
I  should  like  to  ask  you  how  it  is  ? " 

"  I  have  nowhere  else  to  go,"  she  replied. 

A  peculiar  expression  came  over  his  face. 

"  I  was  not  out  in  my  guess,  after  all,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. 

"  "What  has  brought  you  to  London  ? "  he  asked. 

She  looked  around  on  the  dark  river  and  the  vast  city. 
All  I  what  indeed  ?  Could  she  tell  him  that  she  had  been 
deceived,  betrayed  ?  —  that  her  heart  was  broken,  and  she 
wandered  here,  hardly  knowing  why  she  came  ?  No ;  he 
would  not  understand ;  she  would  not  tell  him  that. 

"  Why  did  you  come  to  London  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  I  came  to  find  something  to  do — some  kind  of  work.' 

"  And  have  you  no  money  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  some  money,"  she  replied. 

"  Is  that  a  little  child  you  have  under  your  shawl  ?  " 

tr  Yes,  it  is  a  very  little  boy,"  answered  she. 

''Then  for  the  poor  child's  sake  you  must  go  some- 
where. You  cannot  remain  on  the  bridge  all  night." 

F-ho  drew  her  shawl  closely  round  her. 

'  Tt  looks  so  vast  and  so  dreary  I  do  not  know  where 
to  >£o,"  she  moaned. 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  53 

"  You  have  money — why  not  go  to  a  respectable  coffee- 
house? You  could  get  supper,  a  night's  lodging,  and 
breakfast,  all  for  very  little." 

"  I  should  not  know  where  to  find  one,"  she  said. 

"  I  will  take  you  to  one  you  will  like.  There  are 
several  not  many  steps  from  here." 

"  You  are  very  good,"  she  said,  greatfully.  "  I  am 
tired,  and  I  should  like  it." 

"  You  came  to  London  to  look  for  work,"  said  the 
policeman ;  "  that  is  what  every  one  does.  You  are  a 
lady,  and  not  accustomed  to  work,  I  should  say." 

The  delicate,  refined  face  and  white  hands  told  him  as 
much. 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  Are  you  quite  alone  ?  "  he  continued.  "  Is  your  hus- 
band dead  ?  " 

He  had  seen  the  wedding-ring  on  her  finger. 

"  I  am  quite  alone,"  she  replied. 

"  A  widow !  Ah,  well,  trouble  comes  to  all  of  us.  You 
must  cheer  up.  I  am  not  what  people  call  a  religious 
man  now,  but  I  never  forget  those  words  :  '  I  am  the  God 
of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless.'  ' 

She  started  as  though  a  sharp  sword  had  pierced  her. 
Did  those  words  apply  to  her  ?  "  She  was  not  a  widow, 
because  she  had  never  been  a  wife ;  but  Heaven  knew," 
she  moaned  to  herself,  "  Heaven  knew." 

They  reached  a  quiet,  respectable  coffee-house.  The 
policeman  pointed  to  it. 

"  You  go  in  there,"  he  said,  "  and  ask  if  you  can  stay 
the  night ;  then,  in  the  morning,  look  in  the  papers ;  there 
is  always  something  to  be  found — there  is  always  some- 
thing to  be  found.  Take  my  advice — good, honest  advice 
— do  not  go  back  to  the  bridge  ;  it  does  not  do  for  such 
as  you." 

Then  he  went  away,  but  there  was  a  grave  look  on  his 
face. 

lie  had  seen  many  such  cases,  and  they  all  ended  badly, 
he  said  to  himself — very  badly.  She  had  such  a  beauti- 
ful face,  so  innocent,  so  poor,  so  girlish. 

"  What  has  gone  wrong  with  her,  I  wonder  ?  Ah !  it 
must  be  the  old  story — a  loving  woman,  a  wicked  man. 


54  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

I  cannot  think  she  is  a  widow;  her  trouble  does  not  look 
to  me  like  that  kind  at  all." 

And  throughout  all  the  disturbances  of  that  night,  the 
man's  mind  dwelt  on  that  fair,  wistful,  desolate  face. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE    PARTING. 

SILVIA  soon  found  herself  in  a  most  comfortable  room, 
where  in  a  short  time  she  was  served  with  a  cup  of  hot 
tea.  She  did  not  know  how  much  physical  weakness, 
faintness,  and  hunger  had  to  do  with  her  feeling  of  utter 
weariness.  A  good-natured  maid-servant  came  in,  who 
began  to  admire  the  baby,  to  praise  him,  to  call  him  all 
kinds  of  pet  names.  That  cheered  her.  After  all,  the 
possession  of  that  beautiful  baby  was  a  gleam  of  light  in 
the  darkness  tha$  surrounded  her. 

When  the  little  one  had  gone  to  sleep,  she  laid  it  down 
and  went  to  the  window  ;  she  looked  out  on  the  busy 
streets,  still  so  full  of  people  :  the  noise  seemed  to  reach 
her  and  greet  her — to  remind  her  that  she  was  not  alone 
in  the  world  ;  then  the  clear  heavens  seemed  to  smile 
down  upon  her.  After  all,  there  was  something  to  live 
for. 

"  I  can  work,"  she  thought,  looking  down  on  her  little 
white  hands,  "  and  I  have  my  baby." 

But  she  was  such  a  child,  so  inexperienced  still,  so 
utterly  ignorant  of  the  world  and  its  ways,  so  unversed  in 
all  matters  of  fact,  means  of  life.  As  she  sat  there  decid- 
ing that  she  must  work,  she  had  no  more  idea  how  to  see 
about  it  than  the  little  baby  sleeping  so  soundly  would 
have  had. 

After  a  time  she  laid  her  head  on  the  pillow,  and  slept 
too.  She  did  not  wake  until  morning,  and  then  the 
cold,  blank  world  lay  before  her  again. 

It  so  happened  that  the  mistress  of  the  house,  hearing 
of  the  beautiful  baby  and  its  fair  young  mother,  felt 
Borne  desire  to  see  both.  When  the  time  came  for  pre- 
senting the  bill,  she  took  it  in  herself. 


THKOWN    ON    THE    WOKLD.  55 

Her  heart  was  touched  ;  she  took  the  child  in  her  arras, 
kissed  the  little  blooming  face,  then  turned  to  the  young 
mother. 

"  You  look  very  young,"  she  said  ;  "  and  you  look  like 
one  who  has  had  a  deal  of  trouble." 

"  I  have  had  most  bitter  trouble,"  replied  the  girl — 
"  MO  great  that  it  has  almost  killed  me." 

The  landlady's  eyes  fell  upon  the  plain,  gold  wedding- 
.-iiig. 

u  Why  are  you  alone  ? "  she  said.  "  Where  is  your 
husband  ? " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Those  pale  lips  had 
never  spoken  falsely. 

"  I  have  lost  him,"     she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Poor  child  !  I  thought  as  much.  And  now  you  come 
here  in  search  of  employment — is  that  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  And  I  do  not  know — I  am  so 
ignorant — I  have  no  idea  even  how  to  begin  to  find  em- 
ployment. Ah  !  how  I  wish  you  would  tell  me !  " 

The  landlady  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"  You  are  a  lady,"  she  said,  "  and  if  you  will  excuse 
me  saying  so,  you  know  as  little  as  the  rest  of  them." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  do  not  know  much,"  was  the  meek 
reply. 

"  You  could  teach,  of  course  ? "  said  Mrs.  Carson,  with 
the  least  possible  tinge  of  contempt  in  her  voice. 

"  I  do  not  think  so — I  am  not  clever.  It  requires  great 
skill  and  talent  to  teach  well,  does  it  not  ? " 

A  dry  laugh,  that  Silvia  did  not  understand,  answered 
her. 

"  "Would  you  like  to  go  into  a  shop  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  would  do  anything.     I  am  willing  to  do  anything." 

"  Well,"  said  the  landlady,  candidly,  "  in  my  opinion 
you  are  far  too  good-looking  to  go  into  a  shop.  Your  life 
would  be  a  burden  to  you." 

The  beautiful  face  fell. 

"  Do  you  know  of  anything  that  you  could  get  your 
living  by  at  home — lace-making,  or  anything  of  that 
kind?" 

"  No  ;  I  am  very  ignorant." 

"  If  I  were  in  your  place,"  said  Mrs.  Carson,  "  I  v.ould 


56  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

go  to  an  office — there  must  be  plenty  in  London.  You 
might  get  a  situation  as  governess  to  young  children,  or 
as  companion.  Would  you  like  that  ?  " 

"  Very  much,  indeed,  if  I  could  manage  it." 

"  You  could  manage  it  well  enough,"  was  the  hearty 
reply.  "  Then  you  have  to  consider  what  you  would  do 
with  the  baby." 

The  young  mother's  face  fell. 

"  Shall  I  have  to  leave  my  baby  ?     I  cannot  do  that." 

"  You  will  be  obliged  to  do  it  if  you  wish  to  make 
money,"  said  Mrs.  Carson.  "But  it  will  be  easy  to  find 
a  comfortable  home  for  it — not  here  in  London — but  out 
in  the  country,  where  it  can  get  fresh  air,  and  good  cheap 
milk.  You  will  pay  so  much  a  week,  and  may  be  sure 
he  will  be  kindly  treated." 

"  Are  you  sure  I  can  get  such  a  home  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes;  let  me  think.  I  have  a  married  sister  wh* 
lives  at  Hampstead ;  she  is  not  too  well  off,  poor  thing, 
and  she  would  be  glad  of  a  child  to  nurse ;  that  is  of 
course,"  she  added,  somewhat  awkwardly,  "if  you  can 
pay." 

"I  "will  do  that,"  she  cried — "you  give  me  fresh  life. 
Before  I  do  anything  else  I  will  see  about  a  nice  home 
for  my  baby.  I  never  thought  of  that — indeed,  I  have 
been  almost  in  despair  whenever  I  have  thought  of  it, 
for  I  did  not  see  how  I  was  to  get  work  with  my  baby." 

"  You  do  not  know  much  of  the  world,"  said  Mrs. 
Carson,  kindly. 

She,  too,  like  the  policeman,  had  been  looking  at  the 
lovely  young  face,  and  thinking  that  the  sorrow  there  was 
not  like  the  sorrow  that  follows  death.  Perhaps  some 
idea  of  what  the  truth  actually  was  flashed  across  her; 
but  she  was  a  compassionate  woman,  and  her  heart  was 
full  of  kindness  for  the  girl. 

"  You  have  lost  your  husband,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  and 
it  has  been  a  great  trouble  to  you,  1  am  sure.  You  were 
hurried,  I  suppose,  and  had  not  time  to  get  your  mourn- 
ing?" 

A  sudden,  hot  flush  burned  the  fair  face. 


THROWN   ON    THE   WOELD.  57 

"  I  did  not  think  of  it,"  she  said  humbly.  "  I  was  too 
much  grieved  even  to  remember  it." 

"  I  can  easily  believe  that,  for  I  know  what  trouble  is," 
said  Mrs.  Carson  ;  "  but  the  rest  of  the  world  may  not  do 
the  same.  It  is  a  cruel,  hard  world.  Seeing  you  so 
young  and  with  this  dear  little  baby — hearing  you  call 
yourself  a  widow,  without  wearing  widow's  weeds — they 
would  say  uncharitable  things  to  you." 

"  I  never  thought  of  it,"  she  replied,  briefly. 

"  I  am  glad  I  thought  of  it  for  you.  Can  you  afford  to 
buy  good  mourning  ? "  It  would  go  so  much  in  your 
favor." 

"  Yes — I  have  money,"  she  said,  slowly. 

"  Then,  if  you  take  my  advice,  you  will  do  that  the 
first  thing.  I  should  like  you  to  do  it  before  you  go  to 
my  sister's,  even.  I  will  see  that  the  baby  is  well  taken 
care  of,  if  you  like  to  go  now.  All  these  beautiful  curls 
must  be  put  aside,  and  you  must  have  a  proper  widow's 
cap." 

The  girl  shrunk  back,  evidently  not  liking  the  idea. 
"  How  could  she,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  how  could  she 
act  so  falsely  ? " 

Mrs.  Carson  noticed  her  hesitation. 

"  You,  perhaps,  think  you  are  too  young,"  she  said, 
"  for  such  a  gloomy  dress  ;  but  for  the  baby's  sake  you 
must  wear  it." 

"  I  will  go  out  at  once,"  she  said,  "  and  see  about  it." 

A  few  hours  afterward,  when  she  stood  before  the 
glass,  she  hardly  knew  herself  ;  the  beautiful,  rippling 
golden  hair  was  brushed  back  and  hidden  by  the  widow's 
cap,  the  beautiful,  girlish  figure  was  hidden  by  the  heavy 
mourning  dress.  There  was  no  resemblance  between  her 
and  the  bright,  lovely  girl  whose  brief  span  of  happiness 
had  been  spent  by  the  lake  side. 

"  That  is  right,"  said  Mrs.  Carson ;  "  you  look  ten 
years  older  at  least.  Baby  is  good  as  gold.  Now,  if  you 
have  money  enough  with  you  to  pay  for  him,  better  to 
take  him  to  Hampstead  at  once ;  then  you  will  be  at 
liberty  to  look  out  for  something  to  do.  If  you  can 
arrange  that  I  shall  think  we  have  managed  very  credit- 
ably." 


68  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  I  shall  be  grateful  to  you  as  long  as  ever  I  live,"  said 
Silvia. 

Then  Mrs.  Carson  asked  her  name. 

"You  are  so  young,"  she  said,  "yon  look  so  friendless. 
BO  forlorn,  it  would  bo  a  hard  heart  indeed,  that  did  not 
turn  to  you." 

"I  hope  to  find  others  as  kind;  but  I  hardly  expect 
it." 

"God  is  good,  and  the  world  is  wide  said  the  land- 
lady. 

That  same  day  Silvia  went  to  Hampsfead,  found  Mrs. 
Tate,  the  landlady's  sifter,  a  kind,  patient,  motherly 
•women,  one  whose  life  had  evidently  been  full  of  toil  and 
care ;  she  was  even  thankful  for  the  employment,  and 
promised  to  take  good  care  of  the  child. 

"I  am  fond  of  children,"  she  said,  "though  I  have 
had  but  little  comfort  witli  my  own." 

They  agreed  upon  terms,  and  Silvia  paid  two  months 
in  advance. 

"Whatever  happens  to  me,"  she  thought,  "my  little 
boy  is  provided  for,  for  some  time  at  least.  It  will  be 
strange  indeed  if  I  do  not  find  something  to  do,  for  my 
whole  heart  is  bent  upon  work." 

She  little  knew  how  many  others  had  in  the  same  way 
every  capacity,  every  willingness  to  work,  yet  could  not 
find  work  to  do. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Rymer  went  to  Ilampstead  and 
took  the  baby  with  her.  What  it  cost  that  gentle  heart 
to  part  with  her  child  only  Heaven  knew. 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  59 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

% 

MRS.  THORNTON'S   FANCY. 

"  I  AM  going  to  the  agency  office,"  said  Silvia,  when 
she  returned  from  Hampstead.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  lose  a 
single  hour." 

Mrs.  Carson  laughed  at  her  eagerness. 

"  That  is  right,"  she  replied.  "  You  will  get  on  in  the 
world  if  you  show  such  energy.  You  must  not  mind 
disappointments;  you  are  sure  to  have  plenty." 

"  I  shall  not  let  them  oppress  me,"  said  Silvia. 

"  You  will  get  a  nice  situation,  I  feel  sure,"  said  Mrs. 
Carson,  looking  at  her  approvingly.  "  You  see,  you  have 
all  the  advantages  of  youth,  while  that  widow's  dress 
gives  you  a  look  of  experience.  You  will  have  to  give 
good  reference." 

"  Reference  ?  "  cried  Silvia. 

"  Yes ;  that  is  easy  enough.  You  simply  refer  to  some 
one  or  other  who  has  known  you  some  part  of  your  life. 
Some  one  who  is  very  respectable,  and  whose  name  is  a 
guarantee  for  you." 

"  But,"  she  said,  growing  pale  and  frightened,  "  I — I 
cannot ;  I  have  left  my  friends." 

"  Surely  there  is  some  person  to  whom  you  can  write. 
You  must  think  it  over." 

"  I  know  a  clergyman,"  she  said  doubtfully.  "  A  good, 
religious  gentleman." 

"  You  could  not  do  better,"  said  Mrs.  Carson.  "  Minis- 
ters always  carry  great  weight  with  them.  I  wish  you 
Godspeed  on  your  search. 

Silvia  went,  and  the  kind-hearted  landlady  watched  her 
as  she  walked  down  the  narrow,  gloomy  street. 

"  Poor  young  creature,"  she  said.  "  She  has  had  a 
hard  lot.  Some  one  is  to  blame  for  it." 

Something  of  the  fortitude  that  contact  of  the  world 
always  brings,  came  to  Silvia  Rymer;  she  felt  nerved  to 
meet  and  bear  disappointment. 


60  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  That  whicli  I  have  gone  through,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, "is  eo  much  worse  than  death,  it  seems  as  though 
nothing  now  had  the  power  to  hurt  me." 

She  found  the  agency  office.  At  first  its  size  and 
extent  somewhat  dismayed  her.  She  shrunk  back  half- 
timidly. 

"I  must  be  brave,"  she  thought:  "  brave  for  my  little 
baby's  sake." 

Just  as  she  entered  the  door  a  carriage  stopped  there, 
and  a  young  lady  descended. 

In  some  fashion  or  another  she  half-stumbled  as  her 
feet  touched  the  ground,  and  would  have  fallen,  but  that 
Silvia  ran  forward  to  help  her. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  lady  ;  "  you  have  saved  me 
from  a  very  awkward  fall." 

Then  she  looked  up  into  the  sweet,  pale  face  with  a 
smile.  When  once  she  saw  that  face  her  eyes  lingered 
there  and  did  not  leave  it. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  agency  office,"  she  said  ;  "  unless 
I  am  mistaken,  you  are  going  there  too  ?  " 

Silvia  answered,  and  the  sound  of  her  voice  seemed  to 
have  some  great  charm  for  the  lady's  ear.  They  entered 
the  spacious  hall  together,  and  were  met  by  the  suave 
proprietor,  who  bowed  low  as  he  looked  at  the  lady's 
card. 

"  Mrs.  Thornton,"  he  said,  \vith  great  empressement ; 
"I  am  most  delighted,  most  honored;  pray  walk  this 
way,  madam." 

Then  lie  turned  to  the  girl  by  her  side. 

"  Your  name  ?  "  he  said,  briefly. 

"  I  wish  to  put  my  name  down  on  your  list,"  she  said. 

"An  applicant?  "Will  you  go  to  the  room  on  your 
right,  there  ?  " 

"  Pray  stay  one  moment,"  said  the  clear,  sweet  voice 
of  Mrs.  Thornton.  "  I  have  taken  a  fancy  to  this  young 
lady's  appearance.  You  know  what  I  am  seeking  for, 
Mr.  Loader — a  companion — a  nice,  lady-like,  elegant  girl 
who  would  amuse  me  as  well  as  do  what  I  want  done."' 

"  I  quite  understand,"  he  replied,  with  another  pro- 
found bow.  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  we  shall  be  able  to 


THROWN    ON   THE   WOULD.  61 

meet  Mrs.  Thornton's  requirements  ;  our  books  are  quite 
full." 

Still  the  lady  did  not  seem  satisfied  ;  she  turned  to 
Silvia. 

"  I  am  difficult  to  please,"  she  said.  "  I  am  not  like 
other  people ;  1  am  nervous  and  sensitive.  I  might  see 
twenty  people,  and  not  like  them  after  all ;  but  I  have 
taken  a  fancy  to  this  young  lady,  and  I  should  like  to 
know  if  she  is  seeking  an  engagement?  " 

"  I  am  looking  for  a  situation,"  replied  Silvia. 

"  As  a  companion?  "  asked  Mrs.  Thornton. 

"  Either  as  a  companion  or  nursery  governess,"  was 
the  reply. 

"  You  are  seeking  a  situation  and  I  want  a  com- 
panion," said  Mrs.  Thornton.  "  It  seems  to  me  a  for- 
tunate thing  that  we  have  met  each  other.  Will  you 
allow  me  to  see  this  lady,  Mr.  Loader  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  madam.  1  am  delighted  that  you  should 
be  pleased.  There  are  a  few  forms  that  the  lady  must 
comply  with.  Your  name  first,"  he  added,  turning  to 
her. 

"  Silvia  Rymer,"  she  replied. 

She  answered  every  question  in  rotation.  Then  Mr. 
Loader  led  the  way  to  a  handsomely  furnished  room,  and 
left  the  two  ladies  together. 

"  I  have  taken  a  fancy  to  you,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton ; 
"  I  can  hardly  expect  that  you  will  do  the  same  to  me. 
Sit  down  and  we  can  talk  at  our  leisure." 

Mrs.  Thornton  took  a  seat  on  a  sofa,  and  Silvia  sat 
down  by  her  side  ;  she  threw  back  her  veil,  and  Silvia 
looked  in  mute  wonder  at  her.  It  was  such  a  wonderful 
face — not  beautiful,  though  she  must  have  been  pretty ; 
it  was  pale,  thin,  and  worn,  full  of  suppressed  eagerness 
and  suppressed  fire — a  face  almost  terrible  when  one 
contrasted  its  youth  and  the  pain  written  there. 

"  You  are  startled  at  me,"  she  said  ;  "  every  one  seems 
so  surprised  when  they  look  at  me.  I  always  notice 
keenly  the  face  of  a  stranger  when  I  meet  them  for  the 
first  time,  and  the  result  is  always  the  same  —  they  look 
startled.  You  did  the  same.  Now,  tell  me  why — what 
is  there  in  my  face  ?  Do  not  be  afraid." 


62  THROWN    ON    THE    WOULD. 

"I  do  not  know  how  to  tell  you,"  replied  Silvia. 
"  You  look  eager,  but  as  though  you  did  not  want  any 
one  to  understand  why." 

"  Do  I — now  do  not  be  afraid  of  speaking  the  truth  to 
me — Do  I  look  like  a  happy  woman  ?  " 

Silvia  looked  at  the  worn,  feverish  face — the  wistful 
eyes — the  trembling  lips. 

"  No,"  she  said  ;  "  indeed  you  do  not." 

Mrs.  Thornton  laughed  a  laugh  that  was  not  pleasant. 

"  Now,  how  can  that  be,  I  wonder  ?  I  am  young — you 
see  that  for  yourself ;  I  am  rich  ;  I  have  horses,  carriages, 
servants,  jewels,  dresses  in  superabundance,  and  a  hus- 
band who  adores  me.  "Why  should  I  not  be  happy? 
But  that  is  not  the  business  in  question.  I  want  a  com- 
panion. Will  you  come  aud  live  with  me?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Silvia,  unhesitatingly;  "  that  is,  if  you 
think  I  can  be  useful  to  you." 

"  I  want  some  one  to  read  to  me,  to  sing  to  me,  to  talk 
to  me.  to  amuse  me  when  I  am  dull,  to  bear  with  me 
when  unhappy — some  one  whose  patience  will  not  fail." 

"  I  will  do  all  that  I  possibly  can,"  she  replied. 

"  "Will  you  ?  I  am  so  glad  !  "  She  looked  pleased  as 
a  child. 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  the  very  lady  I  was  looking 
for — so  few  people  suit  me.  I  was  a  spoiled  child,  and  I 
have  the  habit  of  judging  people  from  their  faces.  I 
like  yours.  I  feel  that  I  can  be  quite  happy  with  you." 

There  was  something  so  wistful  and  appealing  in  her 
manner  that  Silvia's  heart  was  touched.  She  determine'.] 
that  she  would  do  all  that  was  possible  for  the  lady, 
whose  unhappiness  was  written  so  plainly  in  her  face. 


THROWN   ON   THE   WOKLD.  83 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A    CHILDLESS    WIFE. 

"  You  look  very  young  to  be  a  widow,"  said  Mrs. 
Thornton,  with  a  compassionate  glance  at  the  sweet, 
white  face  ;  "  very  young  indeed." 

"  I  lived  my  early  life,"  said  Silvia,  with  a  faint  smile. 
I  loved  and  lost  before  most  people  have  begun  to  love 
at  all." 

A  far-off,  dreamy  expression  came  into  the  bright  eyes. 

"  Poor  child — how  different  life  is  for  us  all.  I  used 
to  ask  one  boon  from  Heaven,  I  thought  if  I  had  that, 
earth  would  be  a  Paradise.  It  was  given  to  me — 

"  It  was  given  to  me,"  she  repeated,  "  and  the  fruit  I 
had  thought  so  tempting,  so  beautiful,  so  fair  to  see, 
turned  to  ashes  in  my  mouth." 

Silvia  looked  at  her  in  silent  wonder. 

"  You  think  I  am  strange  to  say  such  things.  So  I 
am;  it  is  my  manner.  "When  you  hear  me  you  must 
take  no  notice,  I  do  not  mean  it.  I  am  very  happy. 
Why  should  I  not  be  ?  Can  you  see  any  reason  why  I 
should  not  be  happy?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Silvia,  soothingly  ;  "  there  is  no  reason." 

There  was  silence  for  a  time.     Silvia  broke  it. 

"  I  ought  to  explain  to  you,  madam,  that  I  am  not 
quite  alone.  I  have  a  little  child — a  beautiful  little  baby 
boy.  But  he  is  with  the  nurse  in  the  country." 

"  You  have  a  child  !  "  said  Mrs.  Thornton  ;  and  in  her 
eagerness  her  eyes  grew  so  bright  that  she  positively 
startled  Silvia.  "  A  child  !  a  real,  living  child  of  your 
own  to  love !  I  never  had  one." 

She  rocked  herself  to  and  fro  in  a  perfect  agony  of 
grief. 

"  I  have  never  had  a  child,  and  I  have  prayed,  oh ! 
how  I  have  prayed  for  one.  You  know  what  the  Bible 
women  of  old  suffered — you  remember  how  Sarah  longed 
for  a  son,  and  when  one  was  given  to  her,  it  was  like  a 


64  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

gift  from  God  ?  Then  there  was  Elizabeth,  even  in  her 
old  age,  a  son  was  given  to  her ;  and  though  they  were 
Bible  women,  I  do  not  think  they  prayed  more  for  the 
gift  of  a  little  child  than  I  have  done.  I  have  fallen 
asleep  with  the  prayer  on  my  lips ;  I  have  prayed  all  night 
in  my  sleep,  and  I  have  woke  making  the  same  prayer." 

"  Heaven  knows  best,"  said  Silvia,  gently. 

"  I  suppose  so  —  they  say  so  ;  I  cannot  tell.  There 
•eems  to  be  always  a  fever  on  me — a  dry,  hot,  burning 
fever ;  and  I  am  sure  if  I  could  once  hold  a  child  of  my 
own  in  my  arms  it  would  go  away.  I  would  build  a 
church — you  smile,  but  I  am  rich  enough  ;  I  would  endow 
a  hospital ;  I  would  do  anything  if  I  might  have  a  little 
child." 

Before  this  great  yearning  sorrow,  Silvia  sat  dumb. 
What  comfort  could  she  offer  ?  What  could  avail  before 
this  great  grief  ?  She  wondered  if  this  was  what  preyed 
upon  the  unhappy  lady,  but  she  made  no  comment. 

"  My  husband  loves  children,"  continued  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton, sadly  ;  "  some  men  do.  The  sight  of  a  child  is  like 
a  sunbeam  to  him.  They  say  it  is  only  good  men  wko 
love  children.  Do  you  think  that  is  true  ? " 

"  I  believe  it,"  said  Silvia.  "  I  think  it  is  an  invariable 
sign  of  a  good,  kind  heart." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  eagerly  ;  "  you  are 
quite  right  there.  How  good  my  husband  must  be.  He 
tells  me  children  run  to  nim,  that  every  child  who  sees 
him  loves  him.  Sometimes  when  he  comes  home,  and 
[  ask  him  where  he  has  been,  he  says — '  To  Lady 
Dainziel's,  her  children  are  so  fond  of  me ;  '  or  it  may 
be  to  Mrs.  Enringham's,  whose  little  boy  calls  him  uncle. 
Then  I  say  nothing  to  him,  not  one  word,  but  I  cry  until 
I  think  my  heart  will  break." 

Then  she  sat  silent  again  for  some  minutes. 

"  You  will  let  me  see  that  little  child  of  yours,  Mrs 
Rymer  1  " 

"  Whenever  you  wish,"  said  Silvia,  gently.  Then  the 
lady  placed  her  burning  hand  on  the  girl's  arm. 

4  You  must  not  think  that  you  will  be  always  miser- 
able. If  you  will  come  to  live  with  me  I  will  see  that 
you  are  happy.  Now  let  ue  talk  about  business.  It  is 


THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD.  65 

six  weeks  and  more  since  Mr.  Thornton  wished  me  to 
find  a  companion.  I  have  been  to  so  many  places  and 
•could  not  see  any  one  I  liked ;  so  that  if  you  could  come 
at  once,  I  should  be  so  glad." 

"I  can  be  with  you  to-day  —  or  to-morrow,"  replied 
Silvia. 

"  Thank  you ;  and  now  for  terms.  Let  me  tell  you 
money  is  no  object  with  me,  and  never  was.  I  have 
more  than  I  know  what  to  do  with.  Should  you  think  a 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  per  annum  enough  ?  If  not, 
tell  me  what  you  would  like,  and  you  shall  have  it." 

Silvia's  heart  gave  one  great  bound.  A  hundred  anc/ 
fifty  pounds — enough  to  clothe  herself  and  bring  up  the 
baby  "  like  a  gentleman,"  as  she  phrased  it  in  her  own 
mind. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  fear  you  will 
overpay  me.  That  seems  a  large  sum —  " 

Mrs.  Thornton  laughed. 

"  You  are  worth  more  than  that,"  she  said  ;  "  just  to 
sit  and  look  at  your  face  alone,  is  worth  all  the  money 
put  together.  You  will  come  to  me  to-morrow,  then, 
Mrs.  Kymer,  at  your  own  convenience.  I  am  very  fortu- 
nate to  have  found  you.  I  must  go  ;  I  have  an  engage- 
ment for  this  evening." 

She  held  the  girl's  soft,  white  hand  in  hers. 

"  You  will  try  to  like  me  a  little?  "  she  said  pleadingly. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  was  the  honest  reply,  "  that  I  shall  like 
you  so  much,  I  shall  never  care  to  leave  you." 

With  those  words  they  parted. 

There  was  some  arrangement  made  with  Mr.  Loader 
that  seemed  to  please  him  very  much ;  he  bade  Mrs. 
Rymer  good  morning  with  great  accession  of  respect — a 
lady  whose  face  commanded  such  patronage  must  be 
worth  cultivating. 

Silvia  Rymer  returned  home  wondering  at  her  own 
good  fortune.  It  seemed  hardly  credible.  Two  days 
since,  she  had  been  forlorn,  hopeless,  helpless,  and  des- 
pairing, longing  for  death  to  relieve  her  from  the  prob- 
lem of  life  ;  now  the  little  one  was  well  provided  for,  she 
herself  had  the  prospect  of  a  good  borne  and  an  income 
that  surpassed  all  her  expections. 


66  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

She  did  not  forget  to  he  grateful,  she  did  not  forget  to 
tliuuk  God  when  she  returned  to  her  lodgings.  Mrs.  Car- 
Bon  was  struck  by  the  gleam  of  color  in  her  face,  and  the 
lighter  and  happier  look. 

"  You  have  good  news,"  she  said.  "  I  can  see  it  in 
your  face." 

"  The  best  possible  news,"  replied  Silvia ;  and,  then, 
seeing  the  kind  landlady  curious,  she  told  her  the  whole 
story. 

"  I  never  heard  anything  like  that,"  said  Mrs.  Car- 
eon,  "  never  in  all  my  life ;  it  seems  jnst  as  though 
Providence  had  done  it  on  purpose." 

Then,  with  more  delicacy  than  one  would  have  expect- 
ed, she  began  to  make  inquiries  about  Silvia's  wardrobe. 

"  Not  from  curiosity,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  but  because 
I  know  the  world.  You  brought  no  luggage  here  with 
you." 

"  I  have  none,"  said  Silvia,  with  a  faint  sigh.  "All 
my  wordly  possessions  are  in  that  little  bag." 

"  Then  you  must  buy  two  boxes  at  least,  even  if  at  first 
you  put  little  into  them.  You  do  not  know  what  a  cold 
judging  world  it  is.  If  yon  had  gone  to  that  hcuse  with- 
out boxes,  there  is  not  a  servant  in  it  that  would  not  have 
despised  you,  and  looked  down  upon  you.  You  have  a 
great  deal  to  learn." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Silvia  simply. 

"  No ;  why  should  you  ?  It  takes  many  a  long  year  to 
understand  the  world  and  its  queer  ways." 

Silvia  sighed  as  she  thought  how  ignorant  she  had 
been  ;  how  little  real  knowledge  she  had  shown  of  life, 
how  easily  she  had  been  misled. 

"  If  you  would  not  mind,"  said  Mrs.  Carson,  "  I  should 
be  glad  to  advance  you  a  little  money.  You  can  pay  me 
when  yon  get  your  o'-vn." 

The  dflie;ite  face  flushed. 

11  You  :•.]•«.  very  kind,  indeed,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  do  not 
:  it.     1  have  a  few  pounds  left.     If  I 
want  money  I  \vi;l  eonio  to  yon  at  once." 

The  rest  of  the  rhy  was  spent  in  making  preparations. 

was  the  most  fortunate  tiling  that  could  have  happened 
to  her— plenty  of  employment.  If  she  had  had  no  work 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  67 

to  do,  no  preparations  to  make,  nothing  to  engross  her 
thoughts  and  attention,  she  would  have  died,  and  this 
Btory  would  never  have  been  written. 

It  was  the  opening  of  a  new  life  to  her.  Once,  when 
her  sorrow  first  came  to  her,  she  had  thought  of  going 
home  to  her  mother;  but  when  she  remembered  all  the 
shame  of  the  story  she  had  to  tell,  all  the  humiliation  to 
which  she  should  expose  herself  from  the  comments  of 
her  friends,  she  could  not  bear  it.  Her  mother — good, 
kind,  generous,  really  religious,  who  held  all  sin,  all  fall- 
ing off  from  virtue  as  something  too  terrible  even  to 
mention — what  would  she  think  of  such  a  story  ? 

Better  let  her  mother  think  her  dead  than  know  what 
had  become  of  her.  Better  never  to  see  her  again  than 
see  her  in  her  humiliation  and  shame.  She  would  never 
look  again  at  the  green  lanes  and  meadows,  the  garden 
and  the  woods.  She  had  said  "  good-by  "  forever  to  that 
part  of  her  life.  And  nothing  could  bring  back  to  her 
that  which  she  had  lost. 


CHAPTER  XV? 

MRS.  THORNTON   BECOMES    CONFIDENTIAL. 

THE  lamps  are  lighted  in  Mrs.  Thornton's  boudoir ; 
she  has  lain  there  all  day,  refusing  to  go  down  to  lunch 
or  dinner ;  she  would  not  eat  or  drink.  In  vain  her  maid, 
who  was  really  attached  to  her  mistress,  brought  up  one 
little  delicacy  after  another.  She  sent  them  all  away ; 
she  was  not  hungry,  and  would  not  eat ;  she  was  not 
thirsty  ;  and  would  not  drink. 

There  she  lay  hour  after  hour,  eating  her  heart  away, 
the  fever  running  hot  in  her  veins,  her  whole  soul  filled 
with  tortures,  trying  to  remember  how  it  had  been  when 
wooing  her  four  long  years  ago ;  trying  to  remember  all 
he  had  said,  every  loving  word  ;  trying  to  think  of  every 
loving  glance  ;  then  stopping  with  a  low  cry  to  wish  she 
were  dead.  It  was  growing  dark  in  the  evening  when 
the  maid  returned  to  her  charge. 

"  You  have  taken  nothing  to-day,  madame,"  she  said  ; 
"  how  can,  you  live  if  you  do  not  eat  ?  You  could  not 


68  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

find  a  surer  way  of  killing  yourself  than  doing  as  you  do 
now." 

She  made  no  audible  answer,  but  to  herself  she  said  : 
"  What   did   it  matter  ?     Better  be  dead  than  living, 
since  no  one  cared  for  her." 

"  If  madam  will  excuse  me,"  said  the  girl,  "  there 
have  been  children  who  have  made  themselves  ill  with 
crying  for  the  moon.  Madam  is  weak  and  imagines 
things." 

"  I  am  ill,"  said  the  poor  lady,  wondering  if  her  maid 
understood  that  her  illness  consisted  of  a  broken  heart. 

"  Did  you  say,  madam,  that  lady  —  Mrs.  Rymer,  was 
coming  this  evening  ?  " 

A  gleam  of  brightness  came  over  the  pale  face ;  in  the 
entire  absorption  of  her  thoughts,  Clara  Thornton  had 
even  forgotten  it. 

"  Yes,  she  is  coming.  It  is  evening  now — it  seems  to 
have  grown  dark  all  at  once." 

"  Let  me  light  the  lamps,"  said  the  girl,  "  and  bring 
up   madarae's   pretty  tea-service  ;   it  will   look  so  much 
more  cheerful  than  coming  into  these  darkened  rooms." 
Mrs.  Thornton  seemed  suddenly  interested. 
"  Certainly  it  will ;  light  all  the  lamps,  Felicie,  and  see 
that  tea  is  brought  up.     Put  some  flowers  on  the  table, 
tell  them  to  send  up  some  jelly  and  something  nice  for 
tea ;    let    us    have    some    fruit  —  grapep,    strawberries, 
peaches ;  make  everything  as  bright  as  you  can." 

She  was  interested  and  eager  enough  nmv.     The  burn- 
ing flush  left  her  face,  her  eyes  looked  more  natural,  and 
Felicie,  looking  at  her,  thought  how  sad  it  was  that  she 
•<>uld  not  always  be  interested  and  eager. 

"If  ehe  had  but  children,"  thought  the  girl,  "she 
would  have  something  else  to  think  of  besides  crying 
over  that  good-for-nothing  of  a  husband.  It  would  take 
a  great  many  men  to  make  me  cry,"  said  the  maid.  "  If 
I  were  in  madam's  place,  instead  of  weeping,  weeping, 
weeping,  I  would  just  give  him  back  what  he  .<?ave  me." 

"1  think,  Felicie,"  said  her  mistress,  "I  mil  go  and 
change  my  dress ;  I  should  like  Mrs.  Rymer  to  find 
everything  bright  and  nice  as  possible." 

The  maid  would  have  done  anything  on  earth  to  have 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  69 

amused  her  mistress  or  pleased  her.  She  took  several 
dresses  from  her  wardrobe.  There  was  a  pink  silk  that 
Felicie  pronounced  charming ;  one  of  green  silk  and 
white  lace ;  one  of  amber  blonde  embroidered  with  white 
satin  flowers ;  they  were  so  numerous  and  beautiful — so 
little  used,  as  Felicie  thought,  with  a  sharp  pain  at  her 
heart. 

"  Mr.  Thornton  will  probably  look  in  before  he  goes 
out  for  the  evening.  He  likes  to  see  me  in  evening  dross. 
Bring  that  mauve  silk  here,  Felicie.  How  pretty  it  is — 
just  the  color  of  a  violet.  I  will  wear  that  with  some 
diamond  ornaments." 

And  although  she  had  spent  some  time  that  morning 
in  dressing  to  please  him,  and  he  had  never  so  much  as 
noticed  her  appearance  by  one  look,  she  dressed  again  for 
him — all  for  him. 

Felicie  was  thankful  enough  to  see  her  mistress  interest- 
ed in  anything.  She  managed  to  prolong  the  business  of 
the  toilet,  and  then,  by  some  well-directed  compliment 
brought  a  smile  to  the  poor,  pale  lips. 

Then  Mrs.  Thornton  went  to  her  boudoir.  It  was  so 
brilliant,  and  the  light  from  the  lamps  fell  on  the  statuea 
and  flowers.  The  table  was  a  picture  of  brilliancy — the 
delicate  china,  the  fine  old  plate,  the  rare  fruits.  Mrs. 
Thornton  smiled  as  she  looked  round. 

"  This  is  comfortable,"  she  said,  and  before  the  words 
had  left  her  lips  Mrs.  Rymer  was  announced. 

Silvia  looked  slightly  bewildered  at  the  magnificence 
that  surrounded  her.  The  pretty  cottage  home  by  the 
lakes  had  been  furnished  hamdsomely,  but  there  was 
nothing  like  the  luxury  she  saw  here.  In  the  pretty 
little  village  of  Rosebank  such  things  had  never  been 
heard  of.  There,  a  substantial  Bmssols  carpet,  with  a 
sensible  suit  of  mahogany,  was  considered  the  height  of 
grandeur. 

She  was  too  refined,  too  true  a  lady  to  show  any  sur- 
prise or  make  any  remark ;  but  she  looked  slightly  be- 
wildered and  confused.  Mrs.  Thornton's  warm  welcome 
soon  set  her  quite  at  her  ease  again. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  said  the  poor  lady.  "  Let 
me  bid  you  welcome.  I  have  not  been  well  to-day;  I 


70  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

have  been   nervous  and  oppressed.     I  shall  be  so  much 
better." 

"When  Silvia  had  been  to  her  room,  and  had  taken  off 
her  bonnet,  she  returned  to  the  boudoir. 

Mrs.  Thornton  was  already  looking  better. 

"  "Will  yon  take  tea  ? "  she  asked.  "  How  nice  it  is 
to  have  some  one  to  speak  to!"  Then  noticing  Silvia's 
look  of  surprise,  she  seemed  to  recollect  herself,  and  said  : 
"  A  lady,  I  mean.  Of  course,  I  can  talk  to  Mr.  Thornton  ; 
but  then  ladies  are  so  different;  one  feels  so  much  more 
at  one's  ease  with  them.  I  like  tea ;  nothing  seems  to  me 
more  comfortable  than  tea  taken  in  this  way.  But  then, 
Mr.  Thornton  never  touches  it." 

"  Gentlemen  do  not  like  it  so  well,"  said  Silvia. 

"  My  husband  is  so  much  sought  in  society,"  continued 
Mrs.  Thornton.  "  I  mention  it  lest  you  should  think  it 
etnmge  that  he  is  not  more  at  home.  I  am  an  invalid,  as 
you  see,  hardly  ever  well.  I  could  not  expect  him  to 
Bpend  all  his  time  here,  shut  up  in  my  room,  could  I  ?  " 

The  wistful  eyes  said  so  plainly,  "  Give  me  one  crumb 
of  comfort,"  that  pleading  face  asked  so  entreatingly  for 
a  little  consolation,  that  some  faint  glimmering  of  the 
true  state  of  the  case  came  to  Silvia. 

"  You  could  not,"  she  replied.  "  Men  require  action 
— they  require  so  much  more  than  women.  Tile  con- 
straint, the  confinement  and  quiet  of  a  sick-room  are 
almost  unbearable  even  to  the  very  best  of  them." 

It  was  pitiful  to  see  the  gleam  of  hope  and  light  that 
c:iino  into  the  sad  face. 

"Do  yon  really  think  so?  Of  course  you  are  right. 
MV  husband  has  such  splendid  health  ;  he  is  so  strong. 
I  do  not  think  he  has  ever  known  an  hour's  illness ;  he 
does  enjoy  life  so  much." 

'  You  would  not  like  to  see  him  change  that  strength, 
energy,  and  fullness  of  life  for  the  weakness,  the  languor, 
the  delicacy  of  an  invalid  ?  " 

'  No,  that  I  would  not,  God  bless  him  !  Do  you  think 
that  men,  ns  a  rule,  are  demonstrative? " 

It  seeim-,1  t<>  Silvia  that  the  whole  matter  was  becoming 
clear  to  her.  Evidently  the  wife  was  most  deeply,  most 
passionately  in  love  with  her  husband,  who,  on  his  part, 


THROWN    ON    THE   WOULD.  71 

was  most  probably  quite  indifferent  to  her.  Evidently 
the  only  way  in  which  to  benefit  the  poor  lady  was  to 
console  her. 

"  I  do  not  think  they  are,"  she  replied,  as  though  she 
had  been  considering  the  question.  "  I  have  heard  very 
clever  people  say  that  the  more  deeply  a  man  feels,  the 
less  trace  he  shows  of  his  feelings." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  heartily,  "  that  you  had 
come  to  live  with  me  years  ago.  I  should  have  been  a 
happier  woman." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A    DISLOYAL    HUSBAND. 

SILVIA  had  been  for  some  time  in  the  house  before  any 
clear  idea  of  what  was  the  matter  dawned  upon  her ;  then 
she  began  to  see  that  in  this  luxurious  mansion,  in  the 
midst  of  society,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  when  such 
things  are  thought  to  be  impossible,  a  tragedy  was  being 
played  out.  Then  she  began  to  understand  the  fever  that 
seemed  to  burn  the  very  heart  of  the  poor  lady  to  whom, 
day  by  day,  she  became  more  warmly  attachea. 

The  piteous  way  in  which  that  woman  clung  to  her 
husband's  love,  or  to  the  idea  of  it,  was  more  sad  than 
any  words  can  tell.  How  she  excused  his  constant  absence 
from  her,  his  coldness  and  indifference,  was  sadder  than 
anything  Silvia  had  ever  seen  in  all  her  life  ;  it  was  not 
the  death,  but  the  mortal,  lingering  agony  of  love. 
Better  a  thousand  times  had  he  deserted  her.  Had  lie 
died  and  left  her,  that  would  have  been  a  sudden  terrible 
shock ;  but  this  was  dying  by  inches,  dying  of  a  broken 
heart,  the  most  lingering  aad  terrible  of  deaths. 

Silvia  learned  to  loathe  the  handsome,  careless  man 
who  seemed  to  live  only  for  himself,  and  never  to  waste 
a  thought  on  the  sorrows  of  others.  He  had  been  very 
much  attracted  by  her ;  the  lovely  face,  withits  sad  ex- 
pression, so  young,  so  fair,  contrasting  so  vividly  with  the 
widow's  cap  and  the  mourning  dress.  Poor  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton was  quite  cheered  because  for  two  whole  evenings  he 


72  THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD. 

sat  with  her ;  she  little  dreamed  that  it  was  for  the  sake 
of  watching  her  companion. 

"  See,"  she  said  to  her  in  the  morning,  "  how  attentive 
my  husband  really  is  to  me.  Of  course,  he  likes  society 
— he  is  so  brilliant  and  accomplished;  but  if  he  thinks  I 
am  really  ill  how  good  he  is !  " 

And  Silvia  might  have  believed  it,  but  that  Mrs. 
Thornton  expressed  a  wish  that  same  morning  for  some 
hot-house  flowers,  and  Silvia  went  into  the  pretty  con- 
servatory to  gather  some.  While  she  was  most  skillfully 
arranging  a  bouquet  of  white  and  crimson  flowers  a 
shadow  fell  over  them,  and  looking  up  she  saw  Mr. 
Thornton  watching  her,  with  an  evil  smile  on  his  hand- 
some face. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  domestic  reform  ? "  he 
asked,  with  something  like  a  sneer. 

No  answering  smile  came  to  the  lovely  face.  Silvia 
looked  up  at  him  gravely. 

"  1  have  not  the  pleasure  of  understanding  you,"  she 
said,  simply. 

"  Do  you  not  think  I  am  a  model  husband,  spending 
two  nights  together  at  home  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  gravely. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  hardly  think  me  polite,"  she 
said,  "  but  I  have  never  thought  at  all  about  you." 

He  laughed  aloud.  "I  call  that  charming.  So  you 
have  never  given  me  one  thought;  that  is  unkind,  con- 
sidering that  I  have  remained  at  home  for  two  whole 
evenings  so  that  I  might  see  you." 

She  turned  away,  loathing  him,  and  busied  herself  in 
finding  some  green  leaves  to  mix  with  the  flowers.  He 
followed  her. 

You  will  surely  say  a  civil  word  to  me  after  that,  Mrs. 
UVIIUT?  If  I  had  a  face  like  yours  to  look  at,  I  would 
never  leave  home  at  all.  I  consider  myself  a  connoisseur, 
and  I  have  never  seen  one  so  lovely." 

She  was  too  indignant  for  words ;  her  face  flushed 
crimson,  and  he  was  weak  enough  to  think  his  compli- 
ments had  called  forth  that  lovely  blush. 

"  If  you  blush  so  beautifully,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  always 
be  trying  to  summon  the  color  into  your  lace." 


THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD.  73 

She  then  raised  her  clear,  sweet  eyes  to  his. 
"  You   mistake   altogether,"    she   said.     "  I  blush  for 
shame  to  think  that  a  man  who  should  be  a  gentleman 
can  so  far  forget  himself." 

"  How  am  I  forgetting  myself  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  I  am  your  wife's  paid  dependent,  and  you  have  no 
right  to  talk  nonsense  to  me." 

"  But  it  is  not  nonsense,"  he  retorted.  "  I  do  not 
think  I  have  ever  said  so  many  true  or  sensible  things  in 
one  day  before.  You  are — I  tell  you,  and  I  mean  it — 
you  are  the  loveliest  woman  I  ever  saw." 

He  stopped  abruptly,  for  she  raised  her  hand  with  a 
warning  gesture. 

"  Stay,"  she  cried.  "  If  you  insult  me  by  one  word, 
only  one  word,  I  will  leave  this  house  instantly,  and 
neither  my  pity  nor  compassion  for  your  wife  shall 
induce  me  to  return." 

"  What  a  pretty  virago,"  he  said  with  a  sneer  ;  but  he 
withdrew  and  stood  looking  at  her  from  a  distance. 

"Understand  once  and  for  all,"  she  said,  "that  I  do 
not  allow  nonsense  of  that  kind  to  be  talked  to  me.  You 
have  a  wife — a  good,  loving,  devoted  wife — and  you  are 
gradually  killing  her  by  neglect.  I  do  not  care  how 
angry  you  are,  I  am  simply  speaking  the  truth.  You 
are  breaking  her  heart,  and  you  know  it." 

"  What  a  pretty  Puritan,"  he  said,  with  a  sneer. 
"  1  believe  that  I  can  be  of  some  little  comfort  to  that 
Tinh  py  lady,"  she  continued.  "  I  have  seen  sufficient 
to  ir  '"rstand  what  is  killing  her.  I  shall  devote  my 
time  t«  her,  I  shall  give  her  all  my  thoughts,  I  shall  de- 
vote myself  to  her;  but  remember,  I  will  never  again 
submit  to  be  spoken  to  as  you  have  spoken  to  me  this 
morning.  If  you  care  enough  for  her  to  wish  that  she 
should  have  a  faithful  friend,  leave  me  in  peace." 

"  Quite  a  pretty  moral  lecture,"  he  said  ;  "  and  moral- 
ly is  never  so  pleasant  as  when  it  comes  from  rosy  lips. 
Well,  it  shall  be  as  you  say,  Mrs.  Prude  ;  you  shall  be 
my  wife's  friend,  and  you  must  really  pardon  me  if  I  say 
that  I  envy  my  wife." 

She  looked  at  him.  He  was  smiling,  with  an  evil  sneer 
on  his  lips. 


74  THROWN    ON   THE    WOULD. 

"I  suppose  all  appeal  to  yon  for  your  wife's  sake 
would  be  useless  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  am  afraid  so,  Mrs.  Rymer." 

"  Honor  and  conscience,  truth  and  loyalty,  are  so  many 
dead  letters  to  you,  I  am  sure.  If  I  tell  you  that  your 
unhappy  wife  has  not  long  to  live,  and  a^k  you  to  make 
\vliat  is  left  of  her  life  pleasant  by  being  kind  and  atten- 
tive, by  spending  more  time  with  her,  would  you  grant 
my  prayer?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  wonder  for  the  sweet  eyes  had 
auddenly  filled  tears. 

"  If  you  knew,"  she  said,  "  how  much  she  loves  you — 
how  she  counts  the  hours  when  you  are  away  from  her, 
and  longs  for  your  return — if  you  could  see  the  wistful 
face,  the  pitiful  eyes,  you  would  not  refuse.  If  I  pray 
you,  for  God's  sake,  to  be  kinder  to  her,  you  will  not 
refuse  ? " 

He  laughed,  but  there  was  some  trace  of  confusion  in 
the  sound  ;  it  was  not  pleasant  to  hear. 

"  You  are  quite  melodramatic,  Mrs.  Kymer,  but  I  am 
afraid,  even  in  compliance  with  your  pretty,  eloquent 
prayer,  I  can  hardly  alter  my  arrangements,  and  they  are 
not  of  a  domestic  kind,  you  see.  I  am  sorry  you  will  not 
be  friends  with  me.  Good-morning.  I  am  quite  in  love 
with  virtue  when  it  takes  such  a  form  as  yours." 

She  made  no  answer,  only  turned  from  him  with  a  sick 
loathing,  and  a  sure  conviction  that  nothing  could  avert 
•  his  wife's  doom. 

"  How  long  you  have  been,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  as 
Silvia  reentered  the  room  ;  "  and  see  how  dependent  I 
am  on  you;  it  is  not  really  twenty  minutes,  and  yet  it 
seemed  to  me  an  hour.  Has  Mr.  Thornton  gone  out 
yet?" 

"  I  think  not,"  she  replied.     "  I  saw  him  down-stairs." 

ik  He  will  not  go  without  coming  to  see  me,"  she  said. 
"  Ah  !  Mrs.  Ilymer,  make  me  look  nice.  I  love  to  see  a 
pleased  expression  in  his  eyes  when  they  rest  OH  me.  Ah, 
ine !  how  I  wish  that  I  were  beautiful.  He  loves  beauty 
so  dearly,  my  poor  Gustave." 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  then  began  again. 

"  I  have  been  suffering  so  much  pain  all  night,"  ehe 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  75 

said,  "  I  am  afraid  my  face  is  ghastly,  and  he  dislikes  all 
sickness  so  much.  Will  you  draw  down  that  rose-colored 
blind,  so  that  the  sun  may  shine  through  it.  And,  Mrs. 
Rymer,  where  is  my  India  shawl  ?  Throw  it  over  rne. 
the  colors  are  so  bright.  I  might  have  one  of  those  roses 
in  my  dress.  Now  do  you  think  I  look  as  nice  as  possi- 
ble?" 

"  You  look  like  a  picture,"  said  Silvia ;  and  so  she  did, 
with  that  exquisite  combination  of  colors ;  but  the  poor, 
thin  face  was  ghastly  white. 

"  Will  you  give  me  my  fan?  "  she  said.  "  I  cannot 
tell  how  it  is,  but  the  perfume  of  the  flowers  seems  al- 
most to  choke  me.  Oh,  Mrs.  Rymer,  do  you  think  I  am 
very  ill  ? " 

What  was  Silvia  to  say?  There  was  death  in  the  white 
face  ;  in  the  dry,  burning  lips  ;  in  the  bright  eager  eyes. 
She  was  dying — dying  of  love  unsatisfied,  that  preyed 
upon  itself  and  was  eating  her  heart  away  —  dying  for 
want  of  affection  and  care  that  would  have  preserved  her 
life  at  least  some  years. 

So  she  lay  and  listened,  but  no  footsteps  on  the  stairs 
brought  the  burning  flush  to .  her  face ;  she  heard  the 
great  hall  door  close. 

"  My  husband  is  gone,"  she  said  ;  "  he  had  not  time  to 
visit  me.  I  am  tired ';  I  will  go  to  sleep,  Mrs.  Rymer." 

But  although  she  lay  still  and  never  spoke,  Silvia  knew 
she  was  weeping  the  bitterest  tears  a  woman  can  shed. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A   LOVE   STORY. 

IT  was  an  arduous  life,  but  Silvia  found  that  its  con- 
stant requirements  did  her  good.     She  was  learning  the 
noblest,  grandest  lesson  that  can  be  learned — how  to  for-     . 
get  her  own  cares  and  sorrows  in  ministering  to  others. 

There  were  times  when  she  looked  at  Mrs.  Thornton 
and  wondered  whether  there  was  another  fate  in  this 
world  like  hers.  Then  she  wondered  over  the  inscrutable 
mysteries  of  life  —  how  it  was  that  love  was  so  often 
given  in  vain — lavished  on  the  least  deserving,  and  with- 


76  THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD. 

held  when  it  would  have  Driven  life  itself.  If  this  un- 
happy lady  lying  before  her  eyes  hud  hut  married  some 
one  who  would  have  cared  for  her  tenderly,  she  might 
have  lived  and  been  happy. 

She  was  sitting  one  evening  by  Mrs.  Thornton's  side; 
she  had  been  reading  to  her,  talking  to  her,  doing  every- 
thing in  her  power  to  take  her  thoughts  from  that  erring 
husband,  but  it  was  all  in  vain. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  "that  every  life,  if 
its  story  were  written,  would  be  more  or  less  of  a  ro- 
mance. Would  your  life  make  a  story,  Mrs.  Rymer  i  '' 

How  old  a  story  she  little  guessed. 

"  I  can  hardly  tell,"  replied  Silvia  ;  "  it  would  only  be 
the  first  volume  of  a  story,  after  all." 

"And  mine  would  reach  the  third;  very  soon  the  time 
will  come  when  the  last  page  will  be  turned,  and  '•finis ' 
written  at  the  end." 

"  You  should  drive  all  such  mournful  thoughts  out  of 
your  head,"  said  Silvia,  gently  ;  "  they  do  you  no  good." 

"But  what  if  they  will  not  go  when  you  drive  them, 
Mrs.  Rymer?  I  have  been  thinking  to-night  what  a 
strange,  sad  story  my  life  is,  but  how  simple  and  brief. 
If  1  read  it  in  print  I  should  lay  the  book  down  with  a 
sigh,  and  wonder  why  such  a  sad,  painful  story  had  been 
written." 

"  We  see  only  half  our  own  lives,"  said  Silvia;  "  the 
other  half  we  shall  know  nothing  of  till  we  are  in  an- 
other world." 

"  Why  are  there  so  many  sad  lives  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Thorn- 
tun.  "  I  do  not  believe  God  ever  meant  it  to  be  so." 

"  It  is  the  sin  and  crime  of  men  and  women  that  make 
sad  lives,"  said  Silvia ;  "  one  person  suffers  for  another, 
one  generation  suffers  for  another,  and  so  the  tale  of  sin 
and  sorrow  goes  on,  and  will  go  on  until  the  world  ends. 

"  And  my  little  story  will  be  unnoticed  and  unknown 
in  the  midst  of  thousands  of  others.  1  shall  have  loved 
my  l»ve,  and  lived  my  life,  and  all  in  vain." 

Not  all  in  vain,  if  Heaven  comes  in  the  end,"  said 
Silvia;  and  Mrs.  Thornton  lay  for  some  time  with  her 
bright,  o:iger.  restless  eyes  raised  to  the  evening  skies. 
"  I  can  remember  when  I  was  quite  young,"  she  said, 


THROWN    ON   THE    WOKLD.  77 

"  that  the  chief  charm  of  life  seemed  to  be  its  endless 
possibilities — there  seemed  no  limit  to  hope,  no  bound  to 
dreams;  life  was  like  space.  Now  it  is  all  over,  narrow- 
ed to  a  small  point,  and  even  that  will  soon  vanish. 
When  I  was  young  I  thought  no  one  ever  had  so  bright 
a  future  as  mine,  now  there  is  no  future.  Mrs.  Rymer, 
would  it  interest  you  to  hear  this  story  of  my  life  ?  I  have 
a  restless  fever  on  me  to-night,  and  it  would  do  me  good 
to  tell  you." 

"If  it  would  not  distress  you,"  said  Silvia,  "  I  should 
like  to  hear  it  very  much.  I  should  understand  you 
better  if  I  knew  it,  perhaps." 

"  It  is  such  a  simple  story,  there  is  hardly  anything  to 
tell.  I  was  left  an  orphan  at  quite  an  early  age,  so  you 
see  there  has  not  been  much  love  in  my  life.  I  do  not 
remember  my  father,  and  I  was  only  seven  when  my 
mother  died. 

"  She  left  me  to  the  care  of  a  cousin,  Mrs.  Flanders, 
who  was  a  widow  lady  of  very  limited  means,  who  was 
always  very  kind  to  me.  I  lived  with  her  at  Clapham. 
When,  I  was  ten  she  sent  me  to  boarding-school,  and  I  led 
a  quiet,  not  unhappy  life  for  ten  years. 

"  Then  a  great  change  came.  My  mother's  brother, 
who  had  gone  to  India  in  his  youth,  and  had,  we  be- 
lieved, either  died  or  forgotten  all  about  us,  was  found  to 
be  a  millionaire;  his  fortune  was  enormous.  He  had 
neither  wife  nor  child,  and  he  died,  leaving  it  all  to  me. 
He  had  left  a  friend  of  his,  in  London — an  old  Indian 
merchant — my  guardian.  The  money  was  my  own  to  do 
what  I  would  with,  and  I,  to  tell  the  truth,  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  it.  My  income  would  amount,  they  said, 
to  something  like  twenty  thousand  per  annum.  Mr. 
Latham  used  to  tell  me  jestingly  that  I  must  marry  ;ui 
earl  and  be  a  countess,  but  I  only  wanted  some  one  to 
love. 

"  It  was  all  sunshine  and  happiness  until  my  cousin 
died.  I  was  only  seventeen,  and  my  guardian  said  I 
had  better  make  my  home  at  his  house  for  a  yenr  or 
two.  Ah,  me,  it  was  sad  enough  —  no  father,  mother, 
sister  or  brother,  no  kinsman  to  love  —  to  live  always 
with  strangers,  and  I  had,  unfortunately  for  myself,  a 


78  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

tender,  affectionate  heart — love  was  as  needful  to  me  as 
the  fresh  air  I  breathed,  or  the  food  I  ate. 

"Mrs.  Latham  was  a  woman  who  went  into  fashionable 
society,  and  seemed  to  live  for  that  purpose  alone;  she 
made  it  her  one  great  study — and  never  wearied  of  telling 
me  that  she  should  expect  me,  with  my  youth  and  large 
fortune,  to  make  a  brilliant  mnrriage.  All  that  is 
commonplace  enough,  is  it  not,  Mrs.  Rymer?  " 

"No,"  replied  Silvia,  "it  was  a  terrible  thing  to  be 
left  so  entirely  alone  in  the  world,  and  a  still  more  terri- 
ble thing  to  have  such  great  wealth/' 

Mrs.  Thornton  sighed. 

"  I  did  not  think  so  then,  but  I  do  now.  I  used  to  tell 
Mrs.  Latham  that  I  had  not  the  least  wish  to  marry  what 
she  called  well,  but  that  1  did  fervently  hope  that  some 
day  I  might  marry  for  love. 

"  '  We  must  have  r>o  sentimental  nonsense,  Miss  Hope,' 
she  would  answer.  '  If  you  are  not  a  countess  it  will  bo 
a  great  disappointment  to  me.' 

"  But  although  I  had  plenty  of  admirers,  I  did  not  see 
any  one  for  whom  I  cared.  Mrs.  Latham  used  to  lecture 
rne  until  I  was  wearied. 

"  '  Why  did  you  not  dance  with  Lord  Vavasour  2 '  she 
would  say  ;  or  it  would  be : 

"  '  Miss  Hope,  do  you  know  the  person  whom  you 
chose  to  dance  with  three  times  to-night  is  only  a  clerk  at 
Somerset  House  ? ' 

"  I  used  to  tell  her,  jestingly,  that  it  was  very  tiresome 
people  did  not  go  about  labeled  with  their  names,  income, 
position,  and  expectations. 

"  One  evening  we  went  to  the  grand  ball  at  the  Man- 
sion House — it  was  given  in  honor  of  some  celebrated 
royal  visitor  —  and  there  I  met  my  husband—  Gnstave 
Thornton.  He  was  introduced  to  me  by  some  lady  friend. 
You  will  not  be  surprised,  Mrs.  Rvmer,  if  I  tell  yon  that 

loved  him  the  first  moment  I  saw  him,  and  I  have 
loved  him  so  dearly  and  so  truly  ever  since  —  not  UM- 
sought,  you  must  understand.  If  he  had  not  seemed  to 
jjaro  for  me,  I  should  never  have  owned  to  myself  that  I 
liked  him— never;  but  he  won  me.  YJ:I,  who  c: 1-  - -j 

j     *•*- 


THROWN    ON    THE   WOKLD.  79 

him  now,  cannot  imagine  how  dearly — he  was  like  ray 
shadow,  and  I — 

"  I  can  remember,  even  now,  every  loving  word  he 
spoke  to  me  —  every  loving  look  he  ever  gave  me.  I 
can  remember  every  time  I  met  him,  every  flower  he 
ever  gave  me  —  every  little  detail  of  our  happy  court- 
ship -  every  trivial  incident  that  arrived;  they  are  all 
impressed  upon  my  heart,  and  they  will  never  fade. 
Sometimes  I  have  thought  I  should  be  like  Queen  Mary, 
and  that  when  I  die  his  name  will  be  round  my  heart. 

"  You  would  either  laugh  or  cry  if  I  told  you  how  I 
loved ;  indeed,  I  could  not  tell.  All  the  love  and  affec- 
tion that  other  girls  give  to  parents,  sisters,  and  friends, 
I  gave  to  him.  I  had  only  him  in  the  wide,  wide  world ; 
no  one  else,  I  believe.  May  Heaven  pardon  me  that  I 
worshiped  him.  Yet,  you  must  remember,  not  unsought 
— never  unsought. 

"  TTbe  time  came  when  there  was  no  room  in  my  heart 
for  any  other  thought ;  my  first  idea  in  the  morning  was 
whether  I  should  see  him,  how  I  should  see  him,  and 
what  he  would  say. 

"  I  saw  him  every  day  ;  he  seldom  called  at  our  house, 
but  in  the  park,  at  the  opera,  at  all  the  balls,  parties,  and 
soirees,  there  he  was,  and  he  managed  it  so  cleverly,  too, 
that  Mrs.  Latham  never  had  the  least  idea  of  it. 

"  '  I  am  not  an  earl,'  he  used  to  say  to  me,  with  a 
smile,  '  so  that  I  must  mind  what  I  am  doing.' 

"  And  while  my  guardian's  wife  was  scheming  to 
obtain  for  me  one  of  the  most  brilliant  marriages  in 
London,  I  was  thinking  and  dreaming  only  of  him. 

"  One  evening  bfc  went  to  a  ball  at  Mrs.  Falronn's,  Mrs. 
Latham  and  myself.  When  we  entered  the  room  I  saw 
him  looking  for  me,  and  after  a  time  he  came  up  and 
asked  me  to  dance  witk  him. 

"  '  You  must  say  no,"  whispered  my  chaperon.  '  Here 
comes  Lord  Vavasour. 

"  But  I  paid  no  heed  to  her.  What  was  Lord  Vavasour, 
or  Lord  any  one  else  compared  to  him  ?  What,  indeed  ? 
I  placed  my  hand  on  his  arm  and  walked  away  with  him, 
leaving  Mrs.  Latham  lost  in  surprise. 

"  I  aoa  not  quite  sure  whether  that  was  prudent,'  said 


80  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

my  lover,  with  a  laugli.     '  I  am  not  an  earl,  and  Mrs. 
Latham  may  take  you  away  from  inc.' 

"I  laughed,  and  thought  in  my  heart  there  was  little 
fear  of  that;  I  would  not  be  taken  from  him  to  be 
crowned  Queen  of  England." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AN    UNHEEDED    WARNING. 

MRS.  THORNTON  lay  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  "  You 
are  quite  sure  that  I  am  not  tiring  you  ?  "  she  said. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Silvia.  "  I  am  more  interest- 
ed than  I  can  tell  you ;  it  is  a  real  romance." 

The  pale  face  brightened. 

"Is  it?  I  am  so  glad.  I  thought  there  was  nothing 
romantic  in  my  life.  I  must  finish  my  story.  That 
night  I  saw  that  Mrs.  Latham  was  watching  me,  but  I 
did  not  care.  True,  Mr.  Thornton  had  not  asked  me  to 
his  wife,  but  I  knew  that  he  loved  me,  and  poor,  untrain- 
ed, ignorant  child  that  I  was  I  would  have  defied  the 
whole  world  for  his  dear  sake.  I  danced  with  him,  talk 
to  him,  went  down  to  supper  with  him  ;  he  held  my 
flowers,  my  fan  ;  he  put  my  shawl  over  my  shoulders,  and 
escorted  me  to  my  carriage,  while  Mrs.  Latham  preserved 
a  dignified  silence.  Just  before  we  drove  off,  while  she 
•  •iigaged  in  speaking  to  the  coachman,  he  bent  down 
and  asked  me  for  the  flower  I  had  been  wearing  all  the 
veiling. 

*'  I  gave  it  to  him,  and  he  kissed  it  passionately. 

'Could  you  contrive  to  meet  me  in  Kensington  Gar- 
den to-morrow  afternoon  at  three? '  he  :i.-ke<l. 

'  I  will  do  so,'  I  replied  ;  and  he  had  no  time  to  say 
more,  for  Mrs.  Latham,  without  paying  the  Ira- 1  attention 
to  him,  ordered  the  coaohman  to  drive,  home. 

"  1  quite  expected  that  she  would  scold  or  remonstrate 
with  me,  but  t(  my  surprise  she  did  not  fay  a  word. 
When  we  reached  home  Mr.  Latham  was  awaiting  us. 
He  looked  unusually  smiling. 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  81 

"  *  Come  this  way  one  minute,'  he  said  ;  and  we  follow- 
ed him  to  the  library.  He  took  a  letter  from  the  table. 

"  '  I  cannot  help  saying  that  I  arn  very  delighted,'  he 
began.  '  I  could  not  have  been  better  satisfied  ;  and  I 
feel  that  we  have  done  our  duty  to  our  old  friend's 
child  —  you,  my  dear,  especially;  and  the  result  is  very 
satisfactory  to  us.  Lord  Vavasour  has  sent  a  proposal  for 
Miss  Hope,  and  he  trusts  that  she  will  consent  to  be  his 
wife.' 

"  Mrs.  Latham  looked  delighted. 

"  '  I  am  very  glad,'  she  said  ;  '  I  thought  he  would  do 
so ;  he  seemed  quite  fascinated.' 

"  '  There  can  be  but  one  answer  to  such  a  question,  of 
course,'  said  Mr.  Latham.  '  Lord  Vavasour  is,  I  should 
say,  the  best  match  in  England ;  he  is  not  only  a  noble- 
man of  great  wealth,  of  the  highest  position,  but  he  is 
also  of  the  most  unblemished  character.  As  Lady  Vava- 
sour, Clara,  you  will  be  one  of  the  most  enviable  women 
in  England.' 

"  Then  I  thought  it  time  to  speak. 
"  '  I  am  not  going   to  marry  Lord  Vavasour,'    I  said 
quietly. 

"  Mr.  Latham's  face  grew  dark.  '  May  I  ask  why  not  ? ' 
he  said. 

"  'Because  I  do  riot  love  him  ;  and  I  should  not  love 
him  if  there  were  no  one  else  left  in  the  world  to  love.' 

"  My  guardian  laughed.  '  I  thought  you  were  more 
sensible  than  most  young  ladies,'  lie  said  ;  '  but  I  see  you 
are  just  the  same.  You  will  think  quite  differently  in  a 
few  days — perhaps  even  by  to-morrow  morning  you  will 
have  altered  your  mind.  Of  course  I  shall  not  take  you 
at  your  word.  I  shall  let  the  answer  to  Lord  Vavasour 
wait  for  a  time.' 

"  I  assured  him  that,  let  it  wait  as  long  as  he  might,  I 
should  never  change  ;  but  he  only  laughed,  and  would 
not  believe  that  I  was  serious. 

"  '  No  girl  in  her  senses  conld  ever  refuse  to  marry 
Lord  Vavasour,'  he  said.  '  I  can  not  believe  that  you 
mean  anything  of  the  kind.' 

"  Then,  seeing  that  I  could  produce  no  impression  by 
anything  I  said,  I  went  to  my  own  room.  Most  prob- 


82  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

ably  my  guardian  and  his  wife  had  a  long  conversation 
about  me,  for  the  next  morning  I  was  sent  for  to  the 
library,  and  found  Mr.  Latham  awaiting  me  alone  ;  Mrs. 
Latham  was  not  present — prorfeably  she  intended  giving 
me  the  opportunity  of  receiving  a  good  lecture. 

"  My  guardian  placed  a  chair  for  me. 

"  '  My  dear  Clara,'  he  said,  '  this  will  be  the  first  time 
that  yuu  and  I  have  come  into  collision.  I  have  always 
found  you  tracfctbl  ,  obedient,  and  docile.' 

"  '  So  I  hope  always  to  be,  guardian,'  I  replied. 

"  '  Then  we  must  consider  the  matter  about  Lord 
Vavasour,'  he  said;  'and  at  the  same  time  I  wish  to 
give  you  a  seriour  warning.  My  dear  Clara,  I  have  only 
your  interest  at  heart ;  I  speak  for  your  good,  and  noth- 
ing else — I  have  no  other  motive.  Your  father  trusted 
you  to  me:  I  must  do  my  best  for  you.  Will  you  take 
advice  from  a  true  and  sincere  friend  ? ' 
That  indeed  I  will,'  I  replied. 

"  *  I  must  tell  you,  because  it  is  my  duty  to  do  so, 
that  Gustave  Thornton  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a 
fortune-hunter.' 

"  I  did  not  believe  it  then,  Mrs.  Rymer,  and  I  do  not 
believe  it  now;  but  the  words  struck  me  like  a  sharp 
sword.  My  face  flushed,  and  I  could  not  speak  one 
word. 

4  He  is  a  handsome  man,'  continued  my  guardian — 
1  that  much  I  admit ;  but  when  that  is  said,  all  is  said.  I 
have  known  him  in  a  casual  way,  on  and  off,  for  years, 
and  that  is  all  I  know  in  his  favor.' 

I  know  more  than  that,'  I  said,  tremblingly. 
4  Indeed!  '  said  my  guardian,  with  a  smile.     4  what 
do  you  know— qood,  I  mean  ? ' 

4 1  know  that  he  is  the  most  chivalrous  and  the 
noblest  of  men,'  I  replied. 

''  My  guardian  laughed  again. 

4  Why,  Clara,  my  dear,  has  it  gone  so  far?'  he  said, 

good-temperedly.     '  I  had  no  idea  of  this.     It  must  not 

go  on.     I  know  still  more,  child— more  than  I  like  to  tell 

Gnstave  Thornton  is  a  fortune-hunter,  and  he  is 

.omething  worse.    Ho  is  a  man  utterly  without  principle, 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  83 

without  honor,  without  honesty — a  man  to  be  dreaded 
and  shunned.' 

"  '  Stop  !  '  I  cried,  angrily.  '  I  will  not  hear  one  word 
more — not  one  word.  You  only  say  this  because  he  is 
poor.' 

"  '  Nay,  my  poor  Clara :  you  are  quite  mistaken.  The 
mischief  is  deeper  than  I  thought.  You  shall  refuse 
Lord  Vavasour  if  you  will,  but  you  must  get  out  of  this 
danger.  You  must  leave  London  at  once.  We  will  go 
on  a  trip  to  Italy,  and  you  shall  see  the  most  beautiful 
cities  of  the  world.' 

"  But  I  was  angry,  Mrs.  Bymer,  and  would  not  an- 
swer him ;  I  thought  that  nothing  in  the  world  should 
ever  take  me  from  my  love.  I  went  up  to  my  own 
room  and  remained  there.  Mrs.  Latham  came  in  to 
speak  to  me,  but  I  would  not  hear  anything  she  had  to 
say;  and  in  the  afternoon  I  went  out  to  Kensington  Gar- 
dens to  meet  my  lover. 

"  Of  course,  I  had  cried  violently ;  equally  as  a  matter 
of  course  he  asked  me  why,  and  I  told  him. 

"  Then  he  asked  me  to  be  his  wife.  He  said  that  he 
loved  me  so  dearly  that  he  could  not  live  without  me--- 
that  he  had  said  nothing  of  it  before,  because  he  felt  the 
disparity  between  my  riches  and  his  poverty  so  greatly  ; 
but  that,  rather  than  I  should  be  made  unhappy,  he 
would  risk  all. 

"  The  end  you  may  guess,  Mrs.  Kymer.  He  persuaded 
me  to  run  away  with  him.  I  was  willing ;  and  that  after- 
noon, before  we  parted,  every  arrangement  had  been 
made  for  our  elopement. 

"  People  say  that  an  elopement  never  prospers.  Would 
my  life  have  been  different? 

"  I  need  not  dwell  on  that  part  of  my  story,  Mrs. 
Rymer.  I  went  with  him — married  him;  and  now  J 
will  tell  you  how  I  have  fared  since." 


84  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 


"DO     YOU    THINK    UK    LOVES    ME?'" 

WHAT  a  sad  story  it  was —  what  a  parody  on  huma 
love — what  a  caricature!   This  lingering  death  and  bligh'- 
ed  life  was  the  result  of  romance  and  passion  ;   this  long, 
Blow  agony  the  end  of  love  that  had  seemed  immortal ! 

Mrs.  Thornton  finished  that  sad  story  one  evening 
when  a  fit  of  restlessness  was  strong  upon  her. 

"  My  guardians  never  forgave  me,"  she  said.  "  Mrs. 
Latham  never  spoke  to  me  again ;  she  would  have  it  that 
I  had  most  basely  deceived  her.  She  told  every  one  how 
foolish  I  had  been  to  refuse  a  nobleman  like  Lord  Yava- 
eour,  in  order  to  elope  with  a  fortune-hunter.  Oh,  Mrs. 
Rymcr!  of  all  my  grief,  that  was  the  deepest,  to  honr 
my  husband  called  a  fortune-hunter!  I  had  two  or  three 
terrible  interviews  with  my  guardian  ;  his  authority  over 
me  ended  with  my  marriage,  and  he  told  me  that  owing 
to  my  having  married  without  any  settlement,  all  my 
large  fortune  became  my  husband's  without  reserve  — 
that  I  had  no  longer  any  claim  even  to  an  allowance ; 
everything  was  his. 

"How  stern  my  guardian's  face  was.  'If  you  had 
Consulted  me  about  your  marriage,'  said  he,  '  I  could  at 
Last  have  advised  you.  If  I  had  found  that  you  were 
bent  upon  sacrificing  yourself,  I  should  have  seen  that 
proper  provision  was  made  for  you.' 

"  *  I  shall  always  have  proper  provision  ! '  I  replied 
indignantly. 

.  hope  it  may  be  so,'  said  Mr.  Latham  gravely, 
'but  I  d"i:',t  it.  Your  husband,  I  warned  yon,  was  a 
fortune  lir.p.ler.  You  knew  that  lie  was  both  Fpend thrift 
and  «_'::mi.!cr.  i  ,•  mil  make  ducks  and  drakes  of  yoKr 
moiu'v  at  his  will — there  is  nothing  to  prevent  him.  No 
girl  i-vrr  made  such  a  terrible  fiasco.  However,  it  is  done 
now,  and  all  the  talking  is  iu  vain,  utterly  in  vain;  I  can 
do  nothing  more  for  you.  The  fortune  that  might  have 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  85 

made  you  a  happy  woman  I  shall  have  the  misery  of 
paying  over  to  a  man  who  is  unworthy  of  it  and  of  you." 

"  I  told  him,  Mrs.  Rymer,  that  lie  must  not  speak  ill 
of  the  m  m  I  had  married.  He  only  sighed  deeply. 

"  '  Poor  child  ! '  he  said.  '  I  am  sorry  to  lose  }rou,  but 
there  can  be  no  more  interviews  between  us.  Your  hus- 
band has  proved  himself  what  he  is  by  taking  advantage 
of  your  youth  and  folly :  that  act  alone  has  placed  him 
beyond  the  pale  of  honesty.  I  can  never  receive  him  at 
my  house ;  but  this  much  I  will  say  to  you,  Clara ; 
should  the  time  ever  come  when  my  worst  fears  are 
realized,  for  you  there  will  always  be  shelter  and  wel- 
come under  my  roof,  but  never  for  him.'  I  have  not 
seen  my  guardian  since." 

Silvia  knelt  down  by  her  side,  and  kissed  the  pale  face. 

"  And  those  fears  have  not  been  realized  ?  "  she  said. 

"  No,"  — •  the  pale  face  flushed  —  "  and  not  only  that, 
but  they  never  will.  I  do  not  believe  my  husband  ever 
gambles  or  bets  now  —  no  matter  what  he  may  have 
done." 

"  Then  Mr.  Latham  should  be  pleased  with  him,  and 
restore  him  to  favor,"  said  Silvia. 

She  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"Alas!  that  will  never  be.  They  say  worse  of  him, 
than  that.  They  say  now  that  he  neglects  me ;  that  he 
does  not  care  for  me ;  that  he  spends  all  his  time  else- 
where; that  he  only  married  me  for  my  money,  and  now 
he  has  had  that,  is  doing  his  best  to  kill  me  with  neglect. 
They  say  all  this  of  him,  but  it  is  not  true — is  it?  " 

"  The  world  is  always  cruel,"  said  Silvia.  "  It  expects 
either  too  much  or  too  little." 

"  But  you  live  here,"  continued  Mrs.  Thornton,  her 
anxious  eyes  fixed  wistfully  on  Silvia's  face.  "  You  live 
with  us;  you  see  what  our  everyday  life  is;  you  have 
sense  and  intelligence.  Forget  that  it  is  not  long  since 
we  were  strangers,  and  tell  me — do  you  think  my  hus- 
band loves  me?  " 

There  was  an  agony  of  entreaty  in  the  eyes  raised  to 
Silvia's  face.  She  was  terribly  embarrassed.  To  tell  the 
truth,  and  say  what  she  really  thought  —  that  Gustave 
Thornton,  so  far  from  caring  for  that  restless  invalid, 


86  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

would  hail  her  death  as  a  relief — would  have  seemed 
cmel  to  her — it  would  have  been  a  death-blow ;  and  to 
tell  so  great  an  untruth  as  to  say  she  had  the  least  faith 
in  that  love,  w;is  more  impossible  still.  She  evaded  the 
question  by  laughing  lightly. 

"  Husbands  are  a  strange  race,"  she  said.  "  They  have 
BO  many  and  such  different  methods  of  showing  love. 
One  man  shows  great  affection,  exactly  as  another  shows 
groat  aversion.  Euclid  wouTd  puzzle  me,  so  would  mathe- 
matics and  algebra,  but  nothing  on  earth  would  ever 
puzzle  me  as  men  do." 

Mrs.  Thornton  smiled,  then  she  went  on  in  the  same 
mournful  voice : 

"  You  know  I  always  think  if  I  had  a  little  child, 
Gustave  would  be  so  much  happier,  and  he  would  love 
home  so  much  better;  but  that  blessing  will  never  be 
mine." 

Silvia  did  not  believe  it — nothing  that  she  had  as  yet 
seen  of  Mr.  Thornton  gave  her  that  idea  of  him.  If  he 
said  to  his  wife  that  he  loved  children,  and  loved  them 
very  dearly,  it  was  to  add  so  much  to  her  trouble  and 
annoyance.  Silvia  credked  him  with  this  amiable  inten- 
tion, but  no  other.  A  selfish,  cynical  Sybarite  to  love 
little  children  !  there  was  nothing  natural  or  probable  in 
it. 

Still  those  piteous,  pleading  eyes  were  fixed  on  her 
face,  and  she  knew  that  the  gentle  heart  was  aching  yet. 

'  You  have  not  told  me  all  your  story  yet,"  she  said. 
"  If  I  am  to  be  a  true  doctor,  I  must  know  all." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  tell  you,"  said  the  poor  lady,  eager- 
[  have  often  thought  that  I  was  morbidly  "fanciful 
•and  jealous  —  that  if  I  could  talk  to  some  one  else,  and 
Ml  them  what  I  think  and  fear,  I  should  be  much  better. 
Now,  you  shall  be  my  second  self,  and  hear  all  rny 
thoughts. 

'  We  were  married,  and  my  husband  seemed  devoted 

t  was   he   who   proposed    Cleve    House,    who 

arranged  my  rooms,  who  ordered  everything  for  me ;  and 

I  was  more  happy,  ten  thousand  times,  than  a  crowned 

queen. 

"  At  first  my  husband  would  take  me  out  with  him 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  87 

everywhere  he  went;  he  said  that  he  did  not  enjoy  him- 
self without  me.  We  went  a  great  deal  into  society,  and, 
to  my  great  surprise,  I  found  myself  treated  in  the  same 
way  everywhere — with  a  kind  of  pitying  kindness  that  I 
could  not  understand. 

"  Then — ah  !  Mrs.  Rymer,  this  was  the  beginning  of 
all  my  unhappiness — my  health  began  to  fail.  I  cannot 
tell  how  it  was.  I  had  always  been  well  and  strong,  and 
my  strength  left  me.  I  used  to  have  a  beautiful  color 
and  brilliant  bloom,  but  it  died  away.  I  tried  rny  best 
to  hide  it,  but  it  was  in  vain.  Late  hours  fatigued  me ; 
in  crowded  rooms  I  used  to  feel  ill  and  weak ;  talking 
exhausted  me  ;  and  after  a  time,  sorely  against  my  will, 
I  was  obliged  to  own  that  I  was  ill,  and  grew  daily  worse 
instead  of  better. 

"  That  was  how  my  husband  first  began  to  care  less 
for  home.  A  sick,  ailing  wife,  I  was  no  companion  for  a 
strong,  handsome,  highspirited  man.  One  of  the  doctors 
I  consulted  told  me  there  was  nothing  wrong  with  me, 
but  that  I  had  exhausted  my  strength,  and  that  three 
months  in  a  warm  climate,  spent  in  peace  and  tranquility 
without  the  excitement  of  society,  would  in  all  probabili- 
ty completely  restore  me  to  health  ;  but  unless  I  availed 
myself  of  this  remedy,  I  should  most  likely  fall  into  a 
decline. 

"  I  told  my  husband,  and  he  laughed  aloud. 

"'Three  months'  penal  servitude!'  he  said.  '!No; 
you  will  get  better  without  that,  Clara.' 

"  And  do  you  know,  Mrs.  Rymer,  those  words  pained 
me  so  that  I  never  spoke  of  going  abroad  to  him  after 
that." 

"  It  was  unpardonably  selfish,"  interrupted  Silvia. 

"  Nay,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  eagerly,  "  he  did  not 
mean  it  so,  he  did  not  indeed  ;  he  thought  it  was  all  non- 
sense ;  and  gentlemen  dislike  all  trouble  of  that  kind  so 
much." 

Silvia  held  her  peace,  knowing  that  the  loving  heart 
and  gentle  lips  would  frame  some  excuse  for  him  even 
had  he  been  caught  in  the  very  act  of  murder. 

"  if  I  had  been  always  strung,  everything  would  have 
been  so  different,"  sighed  Mrs.  Thornton  j  "  but  night 


88  THROWN    ON   THE    WOELD. 

after  night  I  lay  faint  and  ill.  I  could  hardly  expect 
him  to  stay  with  me — could  I  ? " 

"  That  depends,"  said  Silvia,  thinking  in  her  own 
heart  that  when  he  owed  the  roof  that  sheltered  him,  the 
bread  he  ate,  every  comfort  and  luxury  of  his  life,  to  the 
poor  lady,  he  might  in  return  have  shown  her  the  small- 
est possible  attention  and  kindness. 

"  You  must  understand,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  "  that  all 
this  time  I  kept  my  faith  in  him,  and  honestly  believed 
that,  though  he  might  be  careless,  he  loved  me  very  dear- 
ly indeed.  I  never  knew  real  sorrow  and  real  bitterness 
until  the  time  came  when  I  doubted  that." 

"  Did  such  a  time  ever  come  ?  "  asked  Silvia,  quietly. 

"  Yes.  I  will  tell  you  about  it,  and  you  shall  judge 
whether  I  had  any  cause  to  be  angry  or  not." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MRS.  THORNTON'S  DISCOVERY. 

"  MY  husband,"  continued  Mrs.  Thornton,  "  had  a 
cigar-case  that  he  seemed  to  like  very  much.  I  have 
often  asked  him  who  gave  it  to  him,  for  he  had  a  fashion 
of  touching  it  with  gentle,  caressing  fingers,  as  though  it 
were  very  dear  to  him.  « Who  gave  you  that,  Gustave  2 ' 
1  asked  one  morning,  as  he  was  looking  at  it. 

"  He  smiled — riot  with  his  eyes,  us  people  do  who  are 
amused,  but  with  his  lips — a  cold,  constrained  smile,  that 
gave  one  a  terrible  impression  of  falseness. 

*  1  cannot  tell ;  let  me  think.    I  remember;  1  bought 
it  at  a  fancy  fair.' 

"  Perhaps  I  looked  incredulous,  for  he  continued  : 
'  Why  do  you  ask  me,  Clara?  ' 

'  Because  you  seem  so  fond  of  it,'  1  replied.     '  You 
are  always  taking  it  out  to  look  at  it.' 
"He  laughed. 

4  What  a  happy  wife,'  he  said,  'to  have  no  other  rival 
than  a  cigar-case. 

"  I  took  it   up  in  my  hands  to  admire  the  beautiful 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  89 

embroidery.  He  seemed  restless  and  unquiet  till  it  was 
in  his  possession  again. 

"  '  I  paid  very  dearly  for  that,'  he  said.  '  If  ever  you 
go  to  a  fancy  fair,  Clara,  you  will  understand  how.' 

"  Yet  I  could  not  divest  myself  of  some  uneasy  feeling 
over  it,  and  one  day  he  came  to  ine  saying  that  he  had 
lost  it. 

"  ',  Lost  it  I  have  not,"  he  said  ;  ' it  is  somewhere  about ; 
but  I  have  mislaid  it.  I  wish  you  would  give  a  look 
round  Clara.' 

"  So  I  went  into  his  dressing-room,  rather  an  unusual 
thing  for  me  to  do.  I  intended  to  look  in  his  wardrobe. 
I  did  so,  but  without  any  success ;  then  I  felt  in  the 
pockets  of  different  coats.  Mrs.  Rymer,  from  one  of  them 
I  drew  out  a  letter  ;  it  was  in  an  envelope,  but  lay  loose 
in  the  pocket,  with  a  photograph  inside  it.  I  cannot  tell 
what  impulse  made  me  open  it.  I  read  these  words  — 
they  are  engraven  on  my  heart,  and  will  never  be  for- 
gotten: 

"  '  My  dearest — I  inclose  the  photograph  as  you  wish. 
So  you  played  the  grand  coup  Rather  a  bore  that 
kind  of  a  girl ;  still  one  must  hope  for  the  best.  Write 
by  return.  I  shall  expect  you  to-morrow.' 

"  There  was  no  signature  but  the  letter  '  E.'  Now 
Mrs.  Rymer,  there  was  neither  date  nor  envelope,  so  that 
I  could  not  possibly  tell  when  the  letter  had  been  writ- 
ten ;  but  a  terrible  suspicion  arose  in  my  mind  that  it  was 
newly  written ;  that  the  grand  coup  meant  marrying  me, 
and  that  I  was  a  bore.  I  had  no  reason  for  thinking  so, 
none  in  the  least  ;  it  might  be  a  mere  rnorbid  fancy. 
What  do  you  think  ?  Tell  me  honestly — do  not  be  afraid 
of  hurting  me.  What  do  you  think  yourself?  " 

Think !  She  knew  just  as  well  as  though  Gustave 
Thornton  had  made  her  his  confidant;  she  knew  that  he 
cared  nothing  for  the  unhappy  wife  ;  and  she  felt  equally 
certain  that  he  cared  for  many  others.  Still  the  piteous, 
pleading  eyes  asked  for  comfort.  What  could  she  say  ? 

"  You  do  not  answer  me !  "  cried  Mrs.  Thornton. 
"  Tell  me— what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  am  thinking,''  replied  Silvia,  gently ;  "  and  this  is 


90  THROWN  ON  THE  WOBLD. 

•u  iiat  I  say :  that  if  I  were  in  your  place,  I  should  most 
certainly  give  my  husband  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 

Tlie  letter  may  have  been  written  long  before  he  ever 
saw  you.  There  can  be  no  certainty ;  give  him  the  full 
benefit  of  the  doubt — generously." 

The  poor,  pale,  anxious  face  cleared. 

"  So  I  will,"  she  replied.  "  Then,  Mrs.  Rymer,  inside 
the  note,  as  I  tell  you,  there  was  a  photograph.  Ah !  I 
cannot  describe  that — the  portrait  of  such  a  beautiful  girl, 
with  a  low  brow  and  rippling  hair,  proud  eyes  and  sweet 
lips — go  beautiful,  no  man  who  had  ever  loved  her  could 
love  me." 

"  You  do  not  know  that  he  ever  did  love  her,"  said 
Silvia,  gravely. 

"  No ;  it  may  have  been  a  fancy,  idle  as  the  others — it 
may  have  even  been  a  fancy  photograph  —  one  the  face 
of  which  pleased  him ;  but  you  could  not  even  guess 
how  it  has  preyed  upon  me ;  no  one  could.  Night  and 
day  that  beautiful  face  has  been  before  me.  Let  me 
confess  all  my  jealousy  to  you.  When  he  is  away,  I  am 
always  thinking  that  perhaps  he  is  with  her.  I  picture 
to  myself  that  beautiful  face  —  pensive,  smiling,  gay, 
bewitching,  and—  "  she  added  in  a  sudden  burst  of 
passion,  '4  it  is  killing  me !  It  is  killing  me  !  " 

"  Still,"  said  Silvia,  gravely,  "  it  may  be  fancy.  Have 
you  over  seen  any  one  like  her  ?  " 

>%  Xo.  And  every  time  my  husband  speaks  of  friends 
—lady  friends — I  always  ask  the  Christian  name  ;  but  I 
know  none  beginning  with  E  who  would  be  likely  to 
write  to  him  in  that  fashion.  Now  tell  me,  quite  honest- 
ly, do  you  think  it  all  nervous  fancy  of  mine?  " 

"  I  cannot  see  any  reality  in  it,"  replied  Silvia:  "ana 
nrrvous  people  magnify  everything." 

She  remembered  it  afterwards  as  a  strange  coincidence. 
That  very  evening,  Gustave  Thornton  went  into  his  wife's 
boudoir.  She  was  looking  brighter  and  better  than  she 
had  done  for  some  days — the  result,  perhaps  of  the  con- 
versation. She  flushed  crimson  with  delight,  and  certainly 
Mr.  Thornton,  in  evening  dress,  looked  pleasant  enough 
to  attract  any  one. 

"Are  you  not  going  out,  Gustave  ?  "  she  asked. 


THKOWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  91 

"  Not  at  present,  if  you  can  put  up  with  my  society  fur 
a  short  time,  and  if  Mrs.  Rymer  will  be  kind  to  me,  and 
not  too  severe,  I  shall  be  happy  to  stay  with  you  for  an 
hour." 

If  he  had  been  a  better  man,  the  expression  of  her  face 
must  have  touched  him.  She  did  not  know  how  to  wel- 
come him  enough,  how  to  do  sufficient  for  his  entertain- 
ment ;  she  would  have  laid  the  whole  world  at  his  feet  if 
she  could,  while  he  sat,  with  a  cynical  smile  on  his  hand- 
some face,  watching  Silvia.  Suddenly  he  turned  to  his 
wife  : 

"  Clara,"  he  said,  "  has  it  ever  struck  you  that  this 
great,  solitary  mansion  is  like  a  prison  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  I  should  sooner  compare  it  to  a 
paradise,  when  you  are  in  it,  Gustave." 

"  What  a  superabundence  of  sentiment  you  have.  I 
think  it  the  gloomiest  place  I  have  ever  been  in.  "What 
do  you  think,  Mrs.  Rymer?  " 

"Mrs.  Rymer  thinks  nothing,  and  has  no  opinion  to 
offer  on  the  matter,"  said  Silvia  coldly ;  and  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton raised  her  head  in  wonder  at  hearing  her  husband 
addressed  in  those  cold,  abrupt  terms. 

He  did  not  seem  to  resent  it  in  the  least. 

"Gould  we  do  nothing  to  make  it  a  little  livelier?" 
he  asked.  In  one  moment  she  was  all  excitement  at  the 
prospect  of  pleasing  him. 

"  tie  wants  to  spend  more  time  at  home,"  she  thought. 
"  What  can  be  done  to  amuse  him?  "  Is  was  pitiful  to 
see  how  the  thin  fingers  worked  almost  convulsively  at 
the  fringe  of  her  shawl. 

"  What  would  you  like  ?  "  she  said.  "  You  know, 
Grastave,  I  would  do  anything." 

"  Yes — yes — I  know — really  the  house  is  like  a  great 
tomb.  Suppose  now  we  have  a  dinner-party ;  that  would 
fatigue  less  than  anything  else,  because  the  servants  can 
manage  everything.  We  have  an  excellent  cook,  fortu- 
nately." 

"  It  would  be  very  pleasent,"  she  said,  with  a  smile — 
but  her  heart  misgave  her.  Weak,  frail,  trembling,  how 
was  she  to  bear  the  excitement  ?  —  and  yet  he  never  gave 
OQQ  thought  to  that. 


92  THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  What  is  the  use,"  he  continued,  "  of  this  great  house, 
and  this  retinue  of  servants,  if  \ve  do  nothing?  I  think 
you  know,  Clara,  that  you  have  given  way  to  invalid 
fancies  long  enough.  A  little  change  would  do  you  good." 
He  either  could  not  or  would  not  recognize  the  fact 
that  she  was  past  that — that  the  only  change  possible  for 
her  would  be  when  her  soul  put  on  immortality.  She 
tried  to  look  pleased  and  excited  ;  but  Silvia  t-aw  ho\\ 
the  hectic  color  came  and  went  —  how  the  thin  LamKs 
trembled — and  the  white  lips  quivered. 

"  Some  friends  of  mine  who  have  been  abroad  have 
just  returned  to  England,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am  anxious 
to  show  them  every  attention." 

But  this  time,  as  he  spoke,  he  did  not  once  look  at  his 
wife,  and  there  was  a  slight  expression  of  embarrassment 
as  he  met  Silvia's  clear,  frank,  half-scornful  gaze. 

"  Friends  of  yours,"  cried  his  wife.  "  1  shall  be  so 
pleased,  Gustavo.  You  never  talk  to  me  about  your 
friends.  Who  are  they  ?  " 

'  The  Baron  Jules  Sievling  and  his  sister,  a  widow 
lady  ;  they  have  been  abroad  for  some  time,  and  only  re- 
turned to  England  last  week." 

"  Will  you  make  out  a  list  of  those  you  would  like  to 
ask  to  meet  them,  and  settle  the  date  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton. "  Then  leave  all  the  rest  to  us." 

She  did  not  say  to  me,  as  the  would  have  done  once; 
and  as  she  spoke  she  looked  at  Silvia,  as  though  she  would 
fain  ask  for  her  help. 

"  I  do  not  want  a  stiff,  formal  affair,"  he  said,  "but, 
something  light  and  continental — bright,  sparkling  propV 
—no  Mrs.  Gruudies.  I  do  think,  of  all  the  insiifb  nil.!-.- 
human  brings,  a  dull  woman  is  the  most  unbearable." 

"  Well,  v.c  will  try  to  avoid  that  catastrophe,"  she  re- 
plies, but  her  trembling  lip*  show  that  the  arrow  has 
gone,  as  he  intended  it  should,  straight  home. 

"  W<-  \\ill  Fay  next  Tut-nlay,"  lie  continued,  cooly,  as 
tboncli   he  had  not  just  administered  a  mortal  stab;  "  it 
: Mi-thing  to  look  forward  to— a  little  relief  from 
the  unvarying  monotony  and  prison  like  gloom." 

Tin -n  .Mr.  Thornton  rose,  and,  with  a  few  graceful 
words,  sauntered  from  the  room. 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  93 


CHAPTER  XXL 

A    STRANGER    RECOGNIZED. 

"  THERE  is  something  underneath,"  said  Silvia  to  her- 
self, as  the  handsome  face  vanished.  "  Unless  I  am  mis- 
taken, we  shall  hear  more  of  Madame  la  Baron ne.  How 
false  his  eyes  are ;  he  could  not  look  at  me — he  never 
offered  to  look  at  his  wife.  There  is  more  in  it  than  we 
understand." 

"  Mrs.  Rymer,"  said  the  weak,  clear  voice,  "  do  not  be 
angry — do  not  laugh — if  I  ask  you  one  question." 

"  I  will  do  neither,"  said  Silvia,  gently  ;  "  ask  me  any 
question  that  you  will." 

"  When  your  husband  was  living,  did  he — did  he  kiss 
you  sometimes  before  he  left  you  ?  " 

It  was  such  a  simple  question,  but  it  stabbed  her  like 
the  point  of  a  sharp  sword.  For  one  moment  t!u:  mem- 
ory of  those  past  happy  days  rose  and  mocked  her.  He 
whom  she  had  loved  so  dearly  had  never  even  left  a 
room  where  she  was  sitting  without  kissing  her,  yet  it 
had  been  all  false — all  utterly  false. 

"  You  have  puzzled  me,"  she  said,  recovering  herself 
by  a  vigorous  effort.  "  You  forget  what  I  will  tell  you 
so  often,  that  your  husband  is  not  a  demonstrative  man." 

"  He  was  once.     What  has  changed  him  ?  " 

"  Men  are  like  chameleons,  changing  every  moment," 
said  Silvia,  lightly;  "  and  there  is  no  reason  to  be  given 
for  it,  except  that  it  is  their  nature  to  do  so. 

The  grave  eyes  lingered  on  her  face. 

"  Mrs.  Ryraer,  you  said  your  name  was  Silvia,  and 
Silvia  is  a  beautiful  name.  May  I  use  it?  It  soems  to 
bring  me  nearer  to  you.  Silvia,  do  you  know  that  you 
always  speak  as  though  you  had  some  great  cause  to  dis- 
like men  ?  " 

"  That  must  be  an  idle  habit,"  she  replied,  carelessly. 
"Now,  shall  we  discuss  this  dinner-party?  You  will  like 
everything  very  nice,  as  it  is  in  honor  Gf.  your  husband's 


94  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

friends.  Do  you  know  that  while  he  was  talking  I  was 
arranging  a  very  elegant  drees  for  YOU  ?  " 

Slie  looked  up  with  tome  animation. 

"  Were  you  ?     That  was  kind.     What  was  it?  " 

"A  grand  combination  of  blue  brocade,  silver,  and 
pearls.  It  shall  be  a  triumph  of  art,  if  you  will  leave  it 
to  Felicie  and  me." 

"  That  I  will  gladly  do,"  said  the  poor  lady. 

"  Then  you  must  rest  well  for  a  day  or  two  beforehand, 
so  that  you  may  not  be  tired,  but  may  be  able  to  talk  to 
vour  guests.  You  shall  not  have  one  care  on  your  mind. 
You  must  leave  everything  to  me — flowers,  lights,  and 
invitations.  Do  not  think  of  one  single  thing,  except 
that  you  are  going  to  please  your  husband  by  pleasing 
his  friends.  Promise  me  you  will  not  have  one  thought 
— one  sad  thought,  I  mean — between  now  and  then." 

"  I  do  promise,"  she  said  simply  and  gratefully  as  a 
child. 

Silvia  kept  her  word.  She  busied  herself  in  superin- 
tending every  preparation  for  the  great  event.  Tuesday 
came,  and  she  looked  around  the  sumptuous  drawing- 
room  with  no  little  pride.  She  had  arranged  the  flowers 
and  the  lights  so  skillfully  that  the  very  aspect  of  the 
rooms  was  changed. 

"  We  have  surely  had  a  fairy  at  work  here,"  said  Mr. 
Thornton  ;  "  or,  if  I  dare  compliment  Mrs.  Rymer,  I 
should  say  a  skillful  and  elegant  lady." 

Hut  Mrs.  Rymer  did  not  even  gratify  him  by  appear- 
ing to  hear  the  remark.  Quietly,  all  the  time,  she  was 
observing  him,  and  she  detected  in  him  a  subdued,  trium- 
phant excitement.  Then  she  went  to  superintend  Mrs. 
Thornton's  toilet.  Felicie  had  certainly  excelled  her- 
nelf,  and  had  called  in  art  to  help  nature ;  the  shining, 
(graceful  folds  w.  re  so  arranged  as  to  conceal  the  painful 
thinness  of  the  fc'eblc  figure ;  the  soft,  brown  hair  was 
.  :'nd  pearls  interwoven  in  the  rich  coils. 
Did  Felicie  touch  the  pale  cheeks  with  unrivalled  bloom  ? 
At  all  events.  Mr=.  Thornton,  dressed  with  the  most  ex- 
'luisit(;  <':  .'.ushod  and  happy  at  hearing  Silvia's 

compliments,  hoping  to  win  her  husband's  admiration, 
looked  prettier  and  better  than  ehe  had  done  before. 


THROWN   OK    THE   WORLI  95 

"  "We  had  better  go  down  to  the  drawing-room,  Silvia," 
she  said ;  "  our  visitors  will  be  here  very  soon,  and  they 
are  strangers  to  me." 

They  went  down  together ;  Silvia  in  her  dark  crape 
dress,  with  her  delicately  lovely  face,  a  pitiful  contrast  to 
the  poor  lady  who  held  her  hand  so  nervously.  Mr. 
Thornton  started  as  he  saw  his  wife. 

"  Quite  a  resurrection  !  "  Silvia  heard  him  say  to  him- 
self, with  a  sneer;  but  Mrs.  Thornton  fortunately  never 
observed  it.  She  went  up  to  him  with  a  smile,  and  the 
shy,  timid  grace  of  a  child. 

"  Are  you  pleased  with  me  ?  "  she  asked,  gently. 

"  You  are  very  magnificent,  Clara,"  he  said,  carelessly. 

She  placed  her  jewelled  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  That 
is  not  enough  to  make  me  happy,  Gustave,"  she  said. 
"  Are  you  pleased  with  me  ?  " 

It  was  not  her  pretty  pathos,  but  the  flaming  indigna- 
tion he  saw  in  Silvia's  face,  that  made  him  speak  kindly 
to  her. 

"  You  look  very  nice,"  he  said,  and  he  kissed  her  light- 
ly, carelessly,  on  the  forehead.  Still,  it  was  a  caress  to 
her,  and  she  turned  away,  poor,  loving,  deluded  child, 
with  a  rapturous  smile. 

"  I  felt  sure  this  was  going  to  be  a  happy  day,"  she 
said ;  and  Silvia  could  have  wept  with  sheer  pity  for  her. 

"  Gustave,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  "  I  wish  you  would 
tell  me  something  about  our  visitors.  I  am  afraid  I  shall 
be  strange  and  ill  at  ease." 

But  before  he  had  time  to  reply  the  drawing-room  door 
was  opened  and  the  footman  announced  "  Monsieur  le 
Baron  Sievliug,"  and  the  next  moment,  "  Mine,  la  Ba- 
ronne  von  Faiteuil." 

Mr.  Thornton  went  foward  with  an  air  of  great  cordial- 
ity to  receive  the  visitors.  A  slight  cry  from  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton caused  Silvia  to  look  at  her.  She  had  sunk  back, 
white,  faint,  and  trembling,  in  her  chair.  Silvia  went  up 
to  her  quickly. 

"  Are  you  ill  ?  "  she  asked.  The  sad  eyes  were  raised 
to  her  face. 

"  Silvia,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  in  a  faint  whisper,  "  that 
is  the  lady  of  the  photograph  /  " 


96  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  Never  mind,  it  will  not  do  to  give  way  ;  there  is 
nothing  in  it.  Try  to  stand  up." 

"  I  must  ask  Madame  la  Baronne  to  pardon  my  wife," 
said  Mr.  Thornton,  in  his  calm  voice  ;  "  she  is  a  great 
invalid,  and  the  least  exertion  is  too  much  for  her. 

The  look  he  gave  his  unfortunate  wife  had  much 
tender  consideration  in  it.  Mme.  la  Baronne  was  all 
grace,  sweetness,  and  suavity.  She  took  a  seat  by  the 
poor  wife's  side,  and  commenced  a  string  of  tender  in- 
quiries about  her  health,  while  Silvia,  listening,  loathed 
and  hated  the  false,  cruel  man,  who  had  brought  this 
new  form  of  suffering  to  his  unhappy  wife. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A     TORTURED     HEART. 

THE  arrival  of  the  other  guests  put  an  end  to  a  scene 
that,  notwithstanding  all  the  efforts  of  Mme.  von  Fait- 
euil,  was  becoming  painful.  Mrs.  Thornton  had  evident- 
ly made  a  desperate  attempt  to  recover  herself,  but  her 
physical  strength  had  failed  her ;  she  could  not  recover 
that,  to  all  Mme.  la  Baronne's  graceful  platitudes  she  had 
no  answer. 

There  never  was  a  greater  contrast  than  between  the 
two  ladies.  Madame  was  gorgeously  beautiful,  \\  ith  the 
low-bro\ved,  voluptuous  beauty  of  a  Greek  goddess.  Her 
face  was  magnificent,  the  features  perfect,  the  coloring 
exquisite;  the  brilliant  eyes  gleamed  with  humor  that 
was  half  scorn;  the  proud,  peerless  lips  were  haughty 
even  in  their  smile.  Her  dress  was  perfect  as  herself — 
costly  black  velvet  cut  so  low  as  to  show  the  white,  shape- 
ly shoulders,  the  gracefully-arched  neck,  and  swan-like 
throat;  the  white,  rounded  arms  were  bare  to  the  shoul- 
ders, where  the  velvet  was  fastened  with  a  diamond  knot 
and  a  fall  of  rich  white  lace.  In  the  glossy  coils  of  her 
hair  madame  wore  a  pomegranate  blossom  with  a  few 
diamonds. 

The  queenly,  richly  colored  beauty  contrasted  highly 
with  the  nervous  feverish  invalid  by  her  side.  Mrs. 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  97 

Thornton  had  looked  very  nice  when  she  first  entered  the 
room,  but  now  all  her  good  looks  had  vanished  ;  the 
brightness  so  indicative  of  mental  unrest  had  come  into 
her  eyes,  a  hectic  flush  burned  on  the  delicate  face,  her 
lips  grew  dry  and  hot.  To  those  who  had  never  seen 
her  before,  those  symptoms  might  have  been  taken  as 
indications  of  health ;  Silvia  knew  that  they  meant  more 
than  ordinary  pain. 

The  whole  of  the  party  had  arrived,  and  Mr.  Thornton 
offered  his  arm  to  Mine,  la  Baronne.  She  was  evidently 
in  his  eyes  the  guest  of  the  evening.  As  he  passed  by 
his  wife  he  bent  over  her.  To  a  careless  observer  it 
would  have  seemed  that  he  was  making  some  inquiry; 
but  Silvia  heard  the  harsh  whisper: 

"  Do  for  goodness'  sake,  try  to  smile,  Clara.  You 
look  like  a  death's  head  at  a  feast.  What  will  people 
think  of  you  ?  " 

Perhaps  the  unfeeling  coldness  of  the  words  piqued 
her;  or  perhaps  despair  did  what  nothing  else  could  have 
done — aroused  her.  She  tried  to  talk  and  to  smile,  but 
nothing  more  pitiful  could  be  imagined.  Silvia  's  only 
consolation  was  that  no  one  understood  the  scene  save 
herself. 

Then  they  went  to  dinner.  How  many  admiring  eyes 
were  bent  on  that  delicately -beautiful  face  of  Silvia's. 
She  never  knew  it ;  forgot  all  about  herself  in  watch- 
ing the  tragedy  of  that  sorely-wounded  heart  that  was 
slowly  breaking.  Dinner  passed  over  better  than  she 
had  dared  to  hope.  Mrs.  Thornton  was  a  graceful,  self- 
possessed  hostess  now  that  she  had  recovered  from  the 
immediate  shock,  and  Silvia  remained  near  her,  assisting 
her  by  every  means  in  her  power.  The  dinner  was  cer- 
tainly a  great  success,  and  Mr.  Thornton's  smile  became 
most  amiable  and  generous  long  before  it  was  ended. 

Then  the  ladies  went  away ;  but  here  the  task  of  enter- 
taining became  easier.  Mine,  la  Baronne  never  even 
affected  to  take  the  least  interest  in  any  of  her  own  sex, 
she  never  made  any  effort  toward  entertaining  them ;  she 
sunk  back  in  the  easy  depth  of  a  very  luxurious  chair, 
and  closed  her  eyes.  The  other  ladies  gathered  in  little 
groups  to  discuss  children  and  servants. 


98  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

Silvia  persuaded  Mrs.  Thornton  to  follow  the  example 
of  madame  and  rest  until  the  gentlemen  entered. 

"  I  will  go  to  the  piano,"  she  said,  "  and  that  will  give 
you  an  opportunity  of  resting." 

But  it  was  not  long  before  the  gentlemen  came,  and 
then  it  was  wonderful  to  see  the  change  that  came  over 
madame.  It  was  like  one  suddenly  animated  by  a  new 
eoul ;  all  trace  of  languor  disappeared.  Her  eyes  shone, 
her  ruby  lips  were  parted  with  a  proud  smile.  Mr. 
Thornton  went  to  her  and  sat  down  by  her  side. 

M.  le  Baron  challenged  Mrs.  Thornton  to  a  game  of 
chess;  she  was  unwilling  at  first,  for  her  evident  desire 
was  to  watch  her  husband  and  his  beautiful  companion  ; 
but  at  the  first  word  of  refusal  Mr.  Thornton  looked  up 
sharply. 

"  Oblige  the  baron,  Clara,"  he  said ;  "  you  play  an 
excellent  game." 

Her  face  flushed,  but  she  obeyed  him. 
Then   one  of  the  young  ladies  who  had  gone  to  the 
piano  asked  for  a  particular  song,  and  knowing  that  it 
was  among  the  music,  Silvia  turned  away  to  look  for  it. 

The  stand  containing  the  music  had  been  taken  from 
its  usual  place,  and  to  reach  it  Silvia  had  to  stand  im- 
mediately behind  the  large  lounging  chair,  that  quite 
concealed  her  from  all  observation. 

Madame  was  talking  in  a  low  earnest  voice  to  Mr. 
Thornton.  Suddenly  she  held  up  one  white  finger  warn- 
ingly  to  him. 

"  How  clever  you  are,"  she  said.  "  You  never  told 
me  what  a  lovely  girl  your  wife's  companion  was." 

"  Did  I  not  ?     Then  it  must   have  been  because  you 
<>  lovely  yourself  that  in  your  presence  I  cannot  re- 
member anything  else." 

"An  easy  way  of  getting  out  of  a  difficulty.  But, 
Gustave,  who  is  she  ?  There  is  something  so  delicately 
beautiful  about  her.  What  did  you  tell  me  her  name 
was — Rymer  ?  I  do  not  recognize  it ;  she  is  nobody,  of 
course,  but  if  I  had  that  face— '; 

/'  he  interrupted.     "  Why,  your  own  is  worth  a 
thousand  of  it." 


THEOWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  00 

"  Flatterer.  So  home  is  not  dull  after  all,  illumined  by 
that  most  graceful  presence." 

"  I  am  no  favorite  of  Mrs.  Rymer's,"  he  said ;  "  she  is 
prudery  itself." 

"  Then  look  out  for  a  history,"  said  madame,  quickly. 
"  I  never  yet  met  one  woman  pretending  to  be  so  imicl, 
better  than  the  rest,  who  did  not  prove  in  the  end  to  be 
rather  worse." 

"  Mrs.  Rymer  does  not  really  like  me,"  he  said  ;  "  she 
told  me  so" 

"  Ah  !  then  you  must  have  asked  her.  She  would  not 
have  volunteered  such  information,  I  am  sure.  Confess 
at  once." 

"  No,"  he  replied,  carelessly.  "  As  you  imagine,  one 
is  glad  of  any  little  distraction  here.  I  merely  offered  a 
few  compliments,  but  they  were  so  badly  received,  I 
never  ventured  upon  another.  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  he 
continued,  laughingly,  "  I  thought  she  displayed  very 
bad  taste,  and  she  ceased  entirely  to  be  even  interesting 
to  me." 

Then  some  words  followed,  spoken  in  a  lower  tone  of 
voice ;  all  that  Silvia  heard  was  madame  saying: 

"  But  you  told  me  she  was  dying." 

"  So  she  is,"  he  replied,  "  there  is  no  mistake  about  it." 

"  She  does  not  look  like  it,"  said  madame,  incredulous- 
ly- 

"  You  see  her  now  at  her  best ;  but  I  assure  you  that 
if  she  is  alive  in  six  months'  time,  I  shall  be  greatly 
astonished." 

"  Nothing  can  save  her,  then  ? "  said  madame,  care- 
lessly. 

"  I  do  not  know ;  some  think  that  wintering  in  a 
warm  climate  might  be  beneficial.  I  believe  that  if  I 
made  myself  into  a  slave,  waited  upon  her  night  and  day, 
and,  in  fact,  made  myself  miserable  over  her,  I  have  an 
idea  that  she  would  recover ;  but  I  do  not  intend  doing 
anything  of  the  kind." 

"  And  then  "  —  said  madame,  but  Silvia  heard  no  more. 
Such  bitter  loathing  came  over  her  that  she  shuddered  as 
with  mortal  dread ;  she  forgot  the  song  she  had  come  in 
search  of.  She  went  a  way;  out  into  the  cool  conserva- 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

tory,  where  the  burning  fire  of  her  anger  and  indignation 
would  not  betray  her. 

It  was  just  as  she  had  suspected  all  along.  He  had 
married  the  poor  girl  for  her  money ;  he  had  not  the  least 
liking  for  her  iu  his  heart,  and  now  that  her  ill-health 
and  evident  unhappiness  wearied  him,  he  positively  hated 
her;  and  because  of  this  hatred  he  refused  her  the  love 
and  kindness,  the  care  and  attention  that  might  have 
saved  her. 

He  knew  that  his  coldness,  his  evidently  dislike,  was 
breaking  her  heart,  yet  he  would  give  her  nothing  else. 
He  knew  that  if  lie  would  devote  himself  to  IK  r,  if  he 
would  lavish  all  love  and  tenderness  upon  l;<  r,  if  he 
would  take  her  abroad  to  fairer  and  nu.re  sunny  climes, 
he  knew  that  she  would  in  all  human  probability  live 
years  longer;  and  because  he  knew  all  this,  he  purposely 
refrained  from  all  show  of  kindness  or  siff*  ction.  he  would 
give  none  of  it.  He  was  all  she  had  in  the  world,  and  he 
purposely  tortured  her  weak,  gentle,  loving  heart  by 
every  careless  slight  he  could  inflict  upon  her.  He  stud- 
ied how  to  grieve  and  sadden  her.  Some  women,  strong- 
er in  body  and  in  mind,  would  have  risen  up  in  fierce 
rebellion  against  this ;  she  did  not.  It  was  killing  her, 
and  she  had  no  power  to  help  herself. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Silvia  to  herself,  "which  is  the 
worst,  the  man  who  drops  slow  poison  into  his  wife's 
food,  who  stabs  her,  -who  drowns  her,  or  the  man  who 
coldly,  deliberately,  unseen  and  unguessed  by  others, 
calmly  breaks  his  wife's  heart?  " 

She  was  obliged  to  trample  down  the  hot  indignation 
that  had  almost  mastered  her.  She  would  have  liked 
very  much  to  have  returned  to  that  gorgeous  drawing- 
room  and  have  exposed  him  to  all  present ;  but  all  such 
thoughts  were  useless.  She  did  go  back,  when  the  warm 
flush  had  died  from  her  face,  mid  she  found  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton prill  playing  at  chess,  and  JJme.  la  Baronne  still 
engrossing  the  master  of  the  house.  Silvia  watched  her 
as  she  would  have  done  some  \\ondrously  beautiful  ser- 
pent; but  as  she  watched  she  was  obliged  to  own  to  her- 
that  in  no  other  woniaii  had  she  ever  seen  such 
beauty  and  such  grace. 


THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD.  101 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

SUSPICIONS    CONFIRMED. 

A  FEW  days  had  elapsed  since  the  dinner-party,  and 
Silvia  stood  watching  the  clouds  that  sailed  in  such  royal 
triumph  over  the  face  of  the  heavens. 

Since  that  evening  Mrs.  Thornton  had  grown  slowly 
worse  and  worse.  She  had  hardly  seen  anything  of  her 
husband ;  he  was  away  from  the  house  the  whole  day, 
and  no  one  but  himself  knew  at  what  time  of  the  night 
he  returned. 

In  her  poor,  plaintive  way,  Mrs.  Thornton  had  made 
some  slight  protest  against  her  rival.  On  the  same  even- 
ing, after  the  last  of  their  visitors  had  gone,  and  the 
three,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thornton,  with  Silvia,  were  in  the 
drawing-room  alone,  she  had  said  to  him : 

"  I  hope  everything  has  been  to  your  satisfaction,  Gus- 
tave  ? " 

"  It  was  all  right,"  he  said ;  "  there  was  nothing  out  of 
the  way.  We  have  a  good  cellar  and  a  good  cook ;  no 
dinner-party  can  be  quite  a  failure  where  those  two  are 
combined." 

He  might  have  given  her  a  word  of  praise  for  her 
evident  anxiety  to  please  him,  but  he  had  no  such  inten- 
tion. 

"  I  must  say  one  thing,"  he  added,  "  that  I  never  in  all 
my  life  saw  a  woman  so  remiss  as  you,  Clara.  I  declare 
that  you  made  me  feel  ashamed  of  myself." 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked,  slowly. 

"  Because  you  received  Madame  la  Baronne  in  so 
strange  a  manner.  May  I  ask,  Clara,  why  you  did  so?" 

She  either  would  not,  or  dare  not,  tell  him  of  the 
photograph. 

"  I  do  not  like  Madame  Faiteuil,"  she  said,  gravely. 

"  I  should  be  surprised  if  you  did,"  he  replied,  with  a 
sneer.  "La  Baronne  is  a  brilliant,  beautiful  woman. 
She  shines  the  brightest  star  in  the  highest  society.  A 


102  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

pious  washerwoman  would  be  more  in  your  style,  I 
should  imagine." 

"  Nay,  Gustave,  I  do  not  quite  deserve  that !  But 
madame  does  not  seem  to  me  true  ;  there  is  something 
mocking  in  her  smile — something  false  even  in  her  kind- 
est words." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  affectation  of  great- 
est patience. 

"  We  never  did  agree,"  he  said,  "  and  I  suppose  we 
never  shall.  It  seems  strange,  though,  that  I  like  your 
friends  no  better  than  you  like  mine.  If  you  want  a 
model  for  grace,  for  vivacity,  for  animation,  cultivate 
Madame  von  Faiteuil." 

And  with  that  parting  shot  he  left  his  wife's  room, 
where  he  did  not  appear  again  for  many  a  long  day. 

There  came  a  bright,  sunshiny  morning,  warm  and 
fragrant,  when  Mrs.  Thornton  raised  her  pale  face  from 
the  pillow  and  said  : 

"  Silvia,  1  would  give  anything  for  a  drive  this  after- 
noon. Will  you  ask  Mr.  Thornton  as  he  goes  down-stairs 
to  step  in  here  ?  " 

Silvia  did  as  she  was  desired.  She  opened  the  door  as 
Mr.  Thornton  was  passing,  and  told  him  how  delighted 
his  wife  would  be  to  see  him  for  a  minute. 

An  expression  of  impatience  and  vexation  came  over 
his  face. 

"  What  does  she  want  ?  "  he  asked,  quickly.  "  I  have 
no  time  to  spare." 

But  Silvia  wisely  retreated  without  answering  the 
question,  and  he  was  compelled  to  follow  her  into  the 
room.  His  wife  raised  her  pale  face  and  wearied  eyes. 

"  How  well  you  look,  Gustave ! "  she  said ;  and  the 
remark  was  not  uncalled  fer — he  did  look  wonderfully 
well.  There  was  a  slight  flush  on  his  handsome  face,  his 
dress  was  most  faultless  in  style  and  he  carried  a  costly 
and  beautiful  flower.  No  one  looking  at  that  handsome 
exterior  could  have  believed  that  he  was  deliberately 
breaking  a  woman's  heart. 

;'  What  a  beautiful  flower !  "  said  his  wife. 

"  You  did  not  send  for  me,  I  presume,  to  tell  me  that 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  103 

I  looked  well,  and  had  a  nice  flower  ?  "  he  said,  impatient- 
ly. "  What  is  it  you  want  ?  " 

"  The  day  is  so  lovely,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  "  I 
thought  you  would  perhaps  drive  me  out  for  a  short  time 
this  afternoon." 

He  made  no  answer,  and  Silvia,  fearing  for  the  effect 
upon  her  if  she  saw  the  vexation  so  plainly  expressed, 
came  up  to  him ;  her  lovely  face  with  its  pleading  smile, 
would  have  touched  any  man's  heart. 

"  If  you  can  find  leisure,"  she  said,  "  it  would  do  Mrs. 
Thornton  more  good  than  all  the  medicine  in  the  world." 

He  smiled  at  her  most  graciously,  then  turned  to  his 
wife. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said  ;  "  it  happens  most  unfor- 
tunately;  but  I  have  promised  to  go  out  of  town  to-day 
with  a  party  of  friends.  If  it  were  not  for  that  I  would 
go  with  pleasure ;  some  other  day,  let  us  hope." 

And  nodding  carelessly,  he  quitted  the  room.  She  did 
not  cry,  as  she  would  once  have  done  ;  but  an  additional 
shade  of  despair  came  over  her  face  as  she  laid  her  head 
back  on  the  pillows. 

"  You  need  not  be  disappointed,"  said  Silvia.  "  You 
can  go  out  just  the  same,  although  you  will  not  have  the 
advantage  of  Mr.  Thornton's  driving.  Let  me  order  the 
carriage  for  you  after  lunch,  and  I  will  go  with  you ; 
then  I  can  take  the  best  possible  care  of  you." 

She  refused  at  first,  but  Silvia,  standing  by  the  window, 
gave  her  such  a  glowing  account  of  the  sun,  the  white 
fleecy  clouds,  and  the  warm  sweet  western  winds,  that  at 
last  she  consented. 

It  was  while  she  stood  ther6  watching  the  clouds  that 
Silvia's  thoughts  wandered. 

"There  must  be  good  men,"  she  thought;  "there 
have  been  heroes,  martyrs,  saints,  apostles ;  there  must  be 
good  men.  How  is  it  that  my  experience  of  them  has 
been  so  unfortunate  ?  I  can  think  of  nothing  more  noble, 
more  godlike,  than  a  good  man,  a  true,  a  loyal,  honest, 
good  man,  and  yet  those  I  have  known  have  been  bad." 

She  saw  how  terribly  Mrs.  Thornton  felt  her  husband's 
unkindneas,  and  she  did  her  best  to  cheer  her. 

After  lunch  the   carriage   was    brought    round,    the 


104  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

invalid  lady  was  carefully  wrapcd  up,  and  she  went  into 
the  park.  The  fresh  air  and  the  sunshine  seemed  to  in- 
vigorate Mrs.  Thornton ;  a  faint,  delicate  color  came 
back  to  her  face." 

"  It  may  be  a  fancy  of  mine,"  she  said,  "  but  I  have 
an  idea,  even  now,  that  if  I  could  go  abroad  to  some 
really  warm,  bright  climate,  I  should  get  better." 

But  Silvia,  remembering  what  she  had  overheard,  felt 
how  very  improbable  it  was  that  she  would  ever  go. 

The  park  was  full ;  there  was  the  usual  string  of  car- 
riages, with  beautiful  women  smiling  gracefully  —  of 
horses,  with  their  fair  riders  —  of  looker-on  —  of  pedes- 
trians. 

Once  or  twice  Mrs.  Thornton  bowed  in  return  to  a 
wondering  salutation  ;  once  or  twice  she  stopped,  and 
answered  pitying  questions  about  her  health.  Every  one 
told  her  how  ill  she  looked,  and  that  it  was  hardly  fitting 
for  her  to  be  out. 

She  did,  indeed,  present  a  contrast  to  the  happy,  bril- 
liant women,  whose  fair  faces  were  flushed  witli  fresh  air 
and  exercise. 

"  I  am  almost  glad,"  she  said  at  last  to  Silvia,  "  that 
my  husband  is  not  here — he  would  not  be  pleased—  '  but 
she  never  finished  the  sentence. 

At  that  very  moment  she  caught  sight  of  him,  sitting 
in  an  open  carriage  by  Madame  la  Baronne's  side ;  and 
madame  was  looking  more  beautiful  than  ever,  under  the 
shelter  of  a  pink  silk  parasol.  She  saw  him,  but  did  not 
speak. 

^  His  eyes  met  hers,  and  a  black  angry  scowl  passed  over 
his  face. 

She  did  not  know  that  Silvia  had  noticed  the  whole 
scene,  but  she  had. 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Thornton  said : 

''  Let  us  go  home ;  I  am  tired.  I  wish  I  had  not 
come.  Let  us  go." 

At  that  very  moment  the  open  carriage  dashed  by, 
madame's  beautiful,  brilliant  face  smiling  and  flushing 
while  Mr.  Thornton  spoke  to  her. 

The  poor  wife  sunk  back,  white,  breathless,  ghastly. 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  105 

He  had  passed  her  without  the  least  sign  of  recognition. 

"  Let  us  hasten  home,"  she  said,  faintly. 

Silvia  preserved  a  discreet  silence ;  she  did  not  tell 
the  unhappy  lady  what  she  had  seen.  She  sat  by  her 
wondering  how  long  it  would  be  before  the  last  act  in 
that  sad  tragedy  would  be  played  out. 

How  long  —  she  was  almost  alarmed  at  the  ghastly 
change  in  that  pale  face. 

"  I  shall  never  go  out  again,  Silvia."  said  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton as  the  carriage  drew  up  before  the  door  of  the  stately, 
desolate  mansion  she  called  home.  "The  sun  will  be 
shining  next  year,  and  the  wind  whispering  low;  the 
flowers  will  all  be  blooming,  and  the  happy,  smiling 
women  we  saw  to-day  will  be  smiling  still,  but  I  shall  be 
dead!  Something  tells  me  that  I  shall  be  dead!  I  sup- 
pose in  another  world  I  shall  know  what  this  short  life 
was  given  to  me  for !  " 

One  more  incident,  and  then  every  suspicion  that  the 
unhappy  wife  had  ever  imagined  seemed  to  be  proved. 
She  was  taken  very  ill  one  day  at  noon,  so  ill  that  it 
seemed  to  her  she  was  lying  in  the  very  shadow  of  death. 
She  sent  Silvia  to  ask  her  husband  if  he  would  remain 
at  home,  for  she  felt  sure  she  was  dying. 

It  was  with  some  little  anxiety  that  Silvia  offered  her 
petition. 

"  I  would  really  be  glad,  for  Mrs.  Thornton  seems  so 
ill.  I  am  almost  afraid  to  be  left  alone  with  her." 

"  "What  use  could  I  be  ?  "  he  said  brusquely.  "  I  am 
not  a  sick  nurse.  How  in  the  world  do  you  suppose  I 
could  spend  a  whole  evening  in  a  sick-room?  I  could 
not  make  the  sacrifice  if  I  tried." 

And  the  next  morning,  from  some  caller,  she  hean! 
that  he  had  spent  the  evening  in  Mme.  la  Baronne's  box 
at  the  opera. 


106  THROWN   ON   THE    WOULD. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 
THE  FORTUNE-HUNTER'S  VICTIM. 

A  MONTH  later  and  Mrs.  Thornton  lay  dying.  The 
struggle  was  over  and  ended  ;  she  had  laid  herself  down 
contented  to  die — thankful  to  leave  a  life  wherein  she 
found  so  little  happiness — but  true  to  her  husband  to  the 
last.  Silvia  was  sitting  with  her  one  morning,  when  she 
turned  to  her  suddenly  : 

"  I  have  such  a  great  longing  on  me,  Silvia,"  she  said. 
4<  I  would  give  anything  to  see  my  guardian  again,  now 
that  I  am  surely  dying.  I  do  not  think  he  would  refuse 
to  come." 

"  Shall  I  go  and  ask  him  ?  "  whispers  the  sweet  voice  ; 
and  the  delicate,  lovely  face  bends  pityingly  over  her. 

"  If  you  will.  He  was  always  kind  to  me,  and  I  should 
like  to  see  him  once  more.  Tell  him  I  am  dying,  Silvia 
—he  will  not  refuse.  I  should  like  to  see  him,  and  hear 
him  speak  once  more." 

"  I  will  take  a  cab,"  said  Silvia,  "  and  he  will  perhaps 
return  with  me." 

She  went  to  the  address  given,  and  was  fortunate  to 
find  Mr.  Latham  at  home.  He  was  in  his  study,  and 
briefly  enough  she  explained  her  errand.  He  looked 
very  grave,  and  very  sad. 

"  Poor  Clara — poor,  hapless,  foolish  child  !"  he  said, 
"  so  she  is  dying — well,  she  has  lived  longer  than  I  for 
one  thought  she  would.  She  is  the  victim  of  a  fortune- 
hunter,  Mrs.  Kymer  —  that  is  your  name,  I  believe  —  the 
'ictim  of  a  fortune-hunter,  the  neediest  and  greediest  of 
his  class." 

'  You  will  come  and  see  her,  sir,"  said  Silvia,  gently. 
She  says  you  were  always  kind  to  her,  and  she  clings  to 

You  will  surely  come." 

1  will  come  on  one  condition,"  he  said  ;  "  that  I  have 
to  meet  that  heartless  rogue.     I  could  not  control 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  107 

myself  if  I  did.  I  must  raise  my  right  hand  to  punish 
him." 

"  You  will  not  meet  him,"  she  replied.  "  Mr.  Thornton 
is  gone  with  a  party  of  friends  to  Wimbledon." 

"  Friends !  "  interrupted  the  old  man,  harshly  ;  "  you 
mean  he  is  gone  with  that  woman,  of  whom  every  one  is 
talking — Madame  von  Faiteuil — he  is  gone  with  her,  1 
suppose." 

"  I  know  no  more  than  I  can  tell  you,  sir.  He  said  he 
was  going  to  Wimbledon  for  a  day's  pleasure,  with  a 
party  of  friends." 

"  He  is  a  model  husband,  to  go  out  for  a  day's  pleasure 
while  his  wife  is  dying,"  said  the  old  man,  savagely. 
"  I  wish  there  was  law  in  England  to  punish  him ;  he 
should  not  escape." 

But  Silvia,  although  she  indorsed  every  word  he  said, 
would  not  make  matters  worse. 

"  Mrs.  Thornton  never  complains,  sir,"  she  replied. 

"Complains!"  he  cried;  "not  she — I  know  that. 
She  is  one  of  the  patient  Griselda  kind,  born  to  be  some 
man's  slave.  The  only  pity  is  that  she  did  not  fall  into 
the  hands  of  a  good  man.  She  would  not  complain  if  he 
knocked  her  down  and  trampled  the  life  out  of  her.  He 
has  killed  her  by  inches,  I  suppose,  as  every  one  said  he 
would." 

Silvia  made  no  reply.  The  old  man  rose  from  his  seat, 
and  began  to  pace  angrily  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  You  cannot  tell,"  he  said,  "  you  do  not  know  the 
annoyance  this  affair  has  caused  me.  The  uncle  trusted 
the  girl  to  me,  trusted  her  fortune  in  my  hands,  and  this 
is  the  end  of  it.  I  warned  her,  my  wife  warned  her,  but 
it  was  all  in  vain  ;  she  took  her  life  into  her  own  hands, 
and  this  is  the  terrible  failure  that  she  has  made  of  it." 

Silvia  made  no  reply,  from  the  simple  fact  that  she 
was  quite  at  a  loss  what  to  say  ;  every  word  was  true. 
No  one  knew  better  than  herself  what  came  of  it  when  a 
girl  took  her  own  life  into  her  own  hands. 

"  I  thought,"  she  said,  after  a  short  pause,  u  that  you 
would,  perhaps,  go  back  with  me.  I  have  kept  the  cab 
waiting." 


108  THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  Yes,  I  will  go.  But  do  yon  know  what  they  are  say- 
ing of  this  man  all  over  London  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied. 

"  They  say  that  he  spends  all  his  time  with  Madame 
von  Faiteuil ;  they  say  that  he  has  purposely  been  un- 
kind to  his  wife;  that  he  has  neglected  her,  killed  her 
by  coldness  and  neglect,  and  that,  as  soon  as  she  is  dead, 
he  will  marry  this  beautiful  demon.  Is  it  true,  do  you 
think?" 

"  I  hope  not — I  trust  not ;  I  cannot  say." 

"  Poor,  helpless  child  ;  she  was  a  sweet,  docile  girl,  but 
her  fortune  was  her  ruin ;  it  tempted  this  handsome, 
needy  rogue,  and  she  was  deluded  into  marrying  him. 
She  might  have  had  such  a  happy,  brilliant  life  ;  she 
might  have  lived  happily,  but  she  threw  her  life  away, 
and  now  she  is  dying,  you  say  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  is  dying,"  said  Silvia,  gently.  "  You  must 
not  add  to  her  unhappiness  one  word  of  reproach." 

"  I  will  not,"  he  replied. 

A  few  minutes  later  they  were  driving  through  the 
busy  streets.  She  began  to  understand  then  how  the 
guardian  had  loved  his  unfortunate  ward.  He  told  her 
a  hundred  stories  of  Clara's  goodness,  her  simplicity,  her 
generosity,  always  winding  up  with  the  same  paradox — 
that  her  fortune  had  been  her  ruin. 

At  last  they  reached  Cleve  House. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Latham,  nervously,  "  I  feel 
strangely  timid.  I — see,  my  hands  positively  tremble." 

Silvia  led  him  into  the  drawing-room,  and  poured  out 
some  wine. 

"  I  want  it,"  he  said,  "  but  I  could  not  touch  it ;  it 
would  either  poison  me  or  choke  me.  No,  I  will  not 
drink  it.  We  will  go  to  my  ward,  if  you  please." 

"  Is  he  come?  "  asked  the  weak  voice,  ae  Silvia  enter- 
ed the  room. 

4  Yes,  Mr.  Latham  is  here ;  "  and  as  she  spoke  he 
came  in.  The  poor  lady  held  out  her  hands  to  him,  with 
a  breathless  sob. 

"  I  am  so  glad  *on  have  come,"  she  said  ;  "  how  good 
it  is  of  you." 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  109 

"  You  did  not  think  that  I  should  refuse,  Clara  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  I  knew  that  I  did  not  deserve  it,"  she  whispered  ; 
"  but  I  am  so  glad.  I  felt  that  I  could  not  die  in  peace 
until  I  had  seen  you,  and  thanked  you  once  more  for  all 
your  kindness  to  me  in  those  far-off  happy  days." 

He  was  deeply  touched.  Silvia  saw  how  his  strong 
hand  trembled  and  his  lips  quivered. 

"  It  is  so  long  since  I  have  seen  you,"  she  said,  "  so 
long." 

"  Yes ;  I  could  not  break  my  word — I  could  not  visit 
here." 

"  But  I  felt  sure  that  when  you  heard  I  was  dying  you 
would  come." 

"  You  must  not  be  so  sure  of  death,"  he  said,  trying  to 
affect  a  cheerfulness  he  did  not  feel.  "  You  may  get  bet- 
ter yet,  Clara.  While  there  is  life  there  is  always  hope." 

"  Look  at  my  face,"  she  said ;  "  what  is  it  you  see 
there?" 

Death — he  knew  it ;  it  was  imprinted  on  every  feature, 
and  yet  the  ruling  passion  was  with  her  still. 

"  You  must  not  think  it  strange  that  my — that  Mr. 
Thornton  is  not  with  me,"  she  said.  "  He  has  gone  out 
to-day ;  it  is  very  dull  here  always." 

She  would  make  excuses  for  him  with  her  last  breath, 
but  here  they  were  neither  needed  nor  believed. 
.    "  My  dear  Clara,"  said  her  guardian,  "  your  husband  is 
the  only  topic  that  I  would  rather  not  discuss  with  you." 

"  But  you  see,"  she  said,  in  her  faint,  eager  voice, 
"you  see  that  he  has  not  gambled,  nor  played,  nor  bet 
since  we  have  been  married." 

"I  grant  that;  I  admit  it — so  much  the  better  for  your 
fortune ;  but,  Clara,  not  another  word,  my  dear,  on  this 
topic.  Tell  me,  is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 

The  tears  fell  from  her  eyes  on  his  hands. 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  wish  to  ask  you.  Mrs.  Rymer 
- — Silvia  —  my  friend  —  has  been  very  kind  to  me.  I 
want  you  to  tell  me,  can  I  leave  her  anything?  You 
told  me>  when  I  was  married,  that  all  my  fortune  became 
my  husband's ;  but  have  I  not  the  power  to  leave  her  aa 
much  as  would  make  her  comfortable  1  " 


HO  THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD. 

"  No,"  he  said,  gravely.  "  Owing  to  the  rash  manner 
in  which  you  married,  my  poor  child,  you  have  not  the 
power  to  will  one  single  shilling  of  the  thousands  you 
once  called  your  own." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A    REJECTED    APPEAL. 

WHEN  Mrs.  Thornton  heard  Mr.  Latham's  words  she 
burst  into  a  tit  of  passionate  weeping. 

"  I  am  so  sorry !  "  she  said.  "  Oh,  Silvia,  I  am  so 
sorry  1  " 

"  What  is  it  you  wanted  to  do  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Latham, 
kindly. 

She  raised  her  sad  eyes  to  his  face. 

"  I  wanted  to  leave  Mrs.  Rymer  something  for  life — 
she  has  been  so  kind  to  me." 

But  Silvia  knelt  by  the  dying  woman's  side. 

"  You  must  not  trouble  about  me,"  she  said,  "  I  would 
not  have  you  disturbed  or  unhappy  to  be  mada  a  queen 
for  life." 

"  The  worst  of  such  a  marriage  as  yours,  my  dear," 
said  Mr.  Latham,  quietly,  "  is,  that  it  does  not  only  place 
the  wife  herself  in  the  hands  of  an  unprincipled  man. 
but  all  her  fortune.  I  consider  that  a  great  evil.  Your 
husband  has  not  done  so,  but  he  might  have  spent  every 
shilling  of  yours;  and  have  reduced  you  to  beggary." 

Still  she  wept,  because  to  the  best  friend  she  had  it 
was  not  possible  to  leave  the  smallest  assistance.  Her 
v.irs  touched  her  guardian's  heart.  He  said  to  himself 
i  hat  her  wish  should  be  gratified,  even  at  his  own  ex- 
pense. He  laid  his  hand  on  hers. 

"  Come,  Clara,"  he  said,  "  you  must  not  despair.  Tell 
ine  what  you  did  want  to  leave  Mrs.  Rymer  ?  " 

"  I  wished  to  give  her  a  thousand  pounds,"  said  the 
feeble  voice ;  "  that  would  bring  her  in  sufficient  to  live 
upon." 

"  And  would  that  make  you  very  happy  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  should  die  with  more  content,"  she  replied  ;  and  in 
those  words  he  saw  the  hopelessness  of  her  sorrow. 


THROWN   ON  THE  WORLD.  Ill 

"  I  think  I  know  how  it  can  be  managed.  You  always 
trusted  me  in  money  affairs,  and  always  may.  I  will 
attend  to  it  for  yon." 

She  had  always  placed  such  implicit  confidence  in  him, 
she  knew  him  to  be  so  full  of  resource,  so  clever,  that 
she  never  doubted  but  that  he  had  the  power  to  get  a 
thousand  pounds  of  hers,  if  she  needed  it. 

"  You  will  not  let  Gustave  know  what  it  is  for,"  she 
said.  "He  would  not  understand — he  does  not  know 
how  kind  Mrs.  Rymer  has  been  to  me." 

"  He  shall  know  nothing  at  all  about  it,"  was  the 
grave  reply.  "  Leave  all  that  to  me,  and  trust  me,  it 
shall  be  done.  A  thousand  pounds,  a  bequest  from  you, 
shall  be  settled  on  Mrs.  Rymer.  You  may  be  just  as 
happy  over  it  as  though  it  were  already  done." 

If  she  had  known  it  was  to  come  out  of  his  pocket  she 
would  have  been  even  more  grateful ;  but  he  was  not  one 
to  speak  of  a  kindness. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton,  faintly,  "  that  your 
wife  would  not  come  to  see  me,  no  matter  how  much  I 
prayed  her  to  do  so  ?  " 

A  shadow  came  over  his  grave  face. 

"  I  think  not,  my  dear;  she  was  greatly  disappointed 
in  you,  you  know." 

"  Will  you  tell  her  from  me,  not  that  I  repent  my  mar- 
riage— a  thousand  times  over,  not  that — but  how  sorry  I 
am  for  disappointing  her?  Will  you  remember?  " 

He  promised ;  and  then  as  he  sat  there  he  saw  a  ter- 
rible change  coming  over  her  face.  He  rose  hastily. 

"  18  there  anything  more  that  I  can  do  for  you,  my 
poor  child?  "  he  said,  bending  over  her. 

"  No,"  she  whispered.  "  Thank  you  for  coming.  It 
is  growing  dark,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  I  can  hear  the 
sound  of  a  river  rushing  so  quickly  along.  Let  me  hold 
your  hand  once  more.  Good-by  —  and,  guardian,  tell 
every  one  that  my  husband  was  kind  to  rne,  and  that  my 
marriage  was  really  a  happy  one — you  will  not  forget?  " 

Tears  stood  warm  and  bright  in  his  eyes,  as  he  went 
away. 

"  Faithful  to  the  very  last !  "  he  said.  "  Why  are  wom- 
en so  good  and  men  so  bad?  She  would  rather  have 


112  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 

died  any  death  than  have  said  one  unkind  word  of  him, 
and  the  chances  are  that  he  never  says  a  kind  word  to 
her." 

Two  hours  later  and  Silvia  knelt  by  the  bedside,  hold- 
ing the  wasted  hand  in  hers. 

u  You  tell  me  it  is  not  night  yet,"  said  the  faint  voice; 
*'  not  yet,  and  it  is  so  dark  ?  Oh,  if  the  rush  of  the  river 
would  only  stop!  There  is  a  bank  afar  off  all  covered 
with  flowers,  and  1  can  hear  singing — sweet,  soft  music. 
Silvia — Silvia,  hold  my  hand  fast ;  do  not  let  me  die 
without  seeing  my  husband.  I  could  not  rest  in  my 
grave — I  should  have  to  come  back  and  look  at  the  face  I 
love ! " 

"  You  shall  see  him,"  said  Silvia,  soothingly. 

"  I  must  see  him.  Oh !  Silvia,  no  grave  could  hold  me 
if  I  were  to  die  without  saying  good-by  to  him.  I  have 
loved  him  so  dearly.  Do  you  know  where  he  is  ?  Could 
you  send  for  him  ?  " 

Silvia  made  all  inquiries,  but  no  one  knew  where  Mr. 
Thornton  was.  The  only  one  who  could  give  any  infor- 
mation was  his  valet,  who  said  that  his  master  was  going 
out  to  dinner  in  the  evening,  and  had  arranged  to  be 
home  by  six. 

So  Silvia  returned  to  her. 

"  He  will  be  here  by  six  "   she  said,  gently ;   "  it  is 

f.  f  ,,  w  '     D  J    7 

after  four  now." 

"  Shall  I  live  until  then  ?  Yes,  I  shall  —  I  am  sure 
I  shall.  The  strength  of  my  own  wish  will  keep  me 
alive  until  six." 

She  murmured  the  words  to  herself  over  and  over 
again. 

Until  six.  Oh !  Silvia,  stand  by  my  side,  and  count 
the  minutes  for  me— tell  me  how  they  pass." 

Doctors  had  been  there,  and  looked  their  last  at  her 
A  grayhaired  minister,  whose  saintly  free  told  of  a  saintly 
We,  had  knelt  and  prayed  by  her  side.  She  had  finished 
with  the  world,  but  it  seemed  as  though  Ler  soul  was 

1  held  there  by  the  intense  'onging  to  see  her  husband, 
bhe  had  divided  all  her  little  treasures,  but  Silvia  stead- 
lastly  refused  to  accept  even  one  jewel.  The  only  gift 
ehe  accepted  was  a  small  ring  set  with  pearls. 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  113 

"Dark — so  dark!  And,  oh!  the  rush  of  the  river. 
Silvia !  Silvia  !  hold  my  hands  fast,  lest  I  fall  in.  The 
music  is  coining  nearer  to  me  !  There  is  a  kind  face 
smiling  at  me  from  among  the  flowers.  And,  oh,  Silvia, 
there  is  another  face,  like  the  picture,  crowned  with 
thorns !  " 

A  great  light  came  over  the  dying  face,  and  she  lay 
still,  as  one  whose  thoughts  could  not  be  put  into  words. 

Then  the  clock  struck  five,  and  the  white  lips  murmur 
ed.  Silvia  knew  that  she  was  praying  that  she  might  see 
her  husband  again. 

"  Once  more,  my  love !  "  she  said,  faintly — "  once  more 
let  my  eyes  rest  on  you  !  Once  more  put  your  arms 
round  rne  and  whisper  a  loving  word  as  you  kiss  my 
face!  Oh.  my  love!  my  love!  how  shall  I  leave  you  ?  " 

The  ruling  passion  strong  in  death!  She  drew  Silvia 
nearer  to  her,  and  whispered : 

"  If,  after  I  am  dead,  people  say  he  was  not  kind  to 
me,  tell  them  it  is  not  true  ;  bear  testimony  for  me  that 
my  last  words  were  a  prayer  and  a  blessing.  Oh,  my 
love !  my  love !  " 

A  deep  silence  fell  over  them,  only  broken  when  she 
started  up  crying : 

"  Oh,  the  river!  the  river!  Keep  me,  I  am  falling 
in  !  " 

Then  the  clock  struck  six.  The  sound  reached  her. 
"Who  shall  say  how  she  smiled  ? 

"  God  is  good  to  me,"  she  said.  "  He  has  let  me  wait 
to  see  him.  Set  the  door  open,  Silvia,  and  let  them 
watch  for  him." 

But  the  minutes  passed  without  bringing  him — five 
ten,  fifteen. 

"  He  will  not  come,"  thought  Silvia,  and  her  hear. 
sunk  with  a  weight  cold  and  heavy  as  death. 

A  few  minutes  more  and  she  heard  ?  cab  drive  quick- 
ly up  to  the  door  and  a  slight  confusio.i  in  the  hall, 
followed  by  Mr.  Thornton's  voice,  saying  in  sharp,  quick 
accents : 

"  Make  haste  !     Quick  !     I  am  late !  " 

A  crimson  flush  passed  ovor  the  white  face.  A  light 
wonderful  to  see,  skoiie  in  thu  d*  pth  of  those  dim  eyes. 


114  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

"  Silvia,  Silvia,  bring  him  to  me !  I  shall  see  liim 
once  again  ! " 

Without  another  word,  Silvia  quitted  the  room,  and 
ran  upstairs  to  Mr.  Thornton's  dressing-room. 

Let  no  one  think  what  follows  exaggerated — let  no  one 
think  the  picture  overdrawn.  She  nipped  hastily  at  the 
door. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you.  Mr.  Thornton.  Pray  make 
haste  !  It  is  life  or  death  !  " 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  cried,  impetuously.  The  next  mo- 
ment the  door  was  opened,  and  he  appeared,  looking  sur- 
prised when  he  saw  her.  •'  Mrs.  Rymer,"  he  said,  "•  what 
brings  you  here  ?  Pray  do  not  interrupt  me ;  I  have  an 
engagement  this  evening,  and  I  arn  late  now.  What  is 
it?  " 

"  I  pray  you,  come!  "  said  Silvia,  earnestly.  "  Mrs. 
Thornton  is  dying,  and  she  cannot  die  until  she  has  seen 
you." 

He  laughed  aloud — not  merely  smiled,  but  laughed 
aloud. 

"  I  have  heard  that  story,"  said  he,  "  any  number  of 
times  for  any  number  of  years." 

"  But,  indeed,  it  is  true  !  "  cried  Silvia,  clasping  her 
hands  in  wild  distress.  She  dare  not  think  what  would 
happen  if  he  should  persist  in  refusing.  "  Pray  believe 
me.  Mr.  Thornton !  I  swear  to  yon,  your  wife  has  not 
many  minutes  to  live !  She  would  have  been  dead  ere 
now  but  for  her  intense  desire  to  see  you  again." 

"  I  will  look  in  to-night  when  I  come  home,"  he  said, 
impatiently.  "  You  know  yourself,  Mrs.  Thornton  dies 
overy  time  I  go  out  to  dinner.  It  is  the  old  fable  of  the 
Rliepben]  and  the  wolves.  Please,  do  not  hinder  me.  It 
*  very  painful  for  me  to  say  to  one  PO  charming  as 
yourself,  'Go!'  but  I  am  afraid  I  must.  I  ought  to 
be  at  Aston  House  now." 

He  turned,  as  though  the  conversation  had  lasted  long 
enough;  but  Silvia  caught  his  arm  in  an  agony  of 
entreaty. 

"  I  P™.v  you,"  she  said,  "  for  heaven's  sake,  to  come, 
she  i?  dying,  eir,  as  truly  as  I  am  speaking  to  you  " 
Nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  interrupted,  "  j  am  not  to 


THBOWN   ON   THE    WORLD.  115 

be  beguiled  into  a  scene,  Mrs.  Bymer — be  reasonable.  I 
will  see  her  to-night  when  I  return." 

"  Yon  will  not,"  said  Silvia,  solemnly,  "  you  will  never 
see  her  again.  I  did  not  think  that  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  there  was  a  man  so  cold — so  callous — so  wicked — as 
to  refuse  seeing  his  dying  wife." 

"  She  is  not  dying,"  he  said.  "  I  tell  you  it  is  all  an 
old  woman's  fable." 

"  May  Heaven  pardon  you  !  "  said  the  girl,  sadly. 
"  See,  Mr.  Thornton.  I  would  kneel  at  your  feet  to  ap- 
peal to  you.  For  Heaven's  dear  sake — as  you  wish  to  die 
in  peace  yourself — if  only  for  one  moment — come." 

"  Oh !  Mrs.  Ryrner,  Mrs.  Rymer,  to  think  you  can  be  so 
foolish !  "  ' 

Silvia's  face  flushed  crimson. 

"  I  warn  you,"  she  said,  "not  to  refuse.  Your  wife 
says  she  cannot,  she  shall  not,  rest  in  her  grave,  unless 
she  sees  you.  For  your  own  sake — come  !  " 

He  laughed  again  ;  but  this  time  she  detected  some- 
thing of  uneasiness  in  his  laughter." 

"  I  make  one  more  appeal  to  you,"  she  cried,  in  an 
agony  of  distress — "  if  only  for  one  minute — for  Heaven's 
sake — come  !  Think  how  she  has  loved  you — grant  her 
this  ono  prayer." 

He  gently  removed  her  hand  from  the  lock  of  the 
door. 

"  That  is  quite  enough,"  he  said  ;  "  more  than  enough. 
I  will  leave  Aston  House  earlier  than  I  intended  to — but 
go  I  must." 

He  closed  the  door,  and  she  turned  away  with  a  despair- 
ing cry,  that  might  have  convinced  him ;  but  it  did  not. 

"What  Bhall  I  say  to  her?  What  can  1  toll  her?" 
she  said.  "  I  would  rather  die  than  go  back  and  tell  her 
he  will  not  come.  Women  love  men  —  and  this  is  what 
they  get  for  their  love  !  " 

S!io  heard  his  voice  calling  his  valet — hurrying — pcold- 
ing — and  she  thought  of  the  death-bed  so  near.  Was  it 
any  wonder  that  a  wild  cry  went  from  her  heart,  as  she 
asked  of  Heaven  why  it  was  ? 


116  THROWN   ON    THE    WOELD. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

D.ESPAIR    AND    DEATH. 

PROFOUND  eilence  reigned  in  the  room  as  sne  re-entered 
it.  The  nurse  sat  by  the  side  of  the  bed.  Silvia  tried  to 
move  so  gently  that  the  dying  woman  should  not  hear 
her  ;  but  senses  quickened  by  love  are  not  to  be  deceived. 

"  Silvia  !  Silvia !  where  is  he?  is  he  coming?  " 

"  He  will  be  here,  dear,  soon,"  she  replied. 

Never  while  she  lived  did  she  forget  the  look  on  that 
face,  the  despair  that  even  death  could  not  change. 

"  Did  you  tell  him  that  I  was  dying  ? "  she  asked,  in  a 
terrible  voice. 

"  He  knows,  dear,  and  he  is  coming." 

"  You  told  him,  and  he  is  not  here.  Oh  !  Silvia — my 
love,  my  love !  " 

"  He  will  come,  indeed,"  said  Silvia,  bending  over 
her;  "  have  patience  one  minute." 

But  just  as  she  said  the  words,  she  heard  the  hurried 
footsteps  of  the  cruel  husband  going  down-stairs. 

"  GuHtave! "  cried  his  wife,  and  the  sound  of  her  voice 
waa  so  terrible  that  Silvia  shrunk — "  Gustave — " 

He  laughed  as  he  heard  it. 

"  That  doesn't  seem  much  like  dying,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  I  knew  it  was  all  a  farce." 

They  heard  the  door  close,  and  the  hasty  departure  of 
the  carriage. 

Silvia  dare  not  look  at  her. 

"  Gustave!  "  cried  the  dying  voice  again.  "  Oh!  my 
love,  my  love !  " 

The  words  seemed  to  lie  on  her  lips.  She  turned  her 
face  to  the  vail  with  a  faint  High. 

"  Good-by,  Silvia,"  she  said,  after  a  short  pause,  and 
they  did  not  hear  her  voice  again,  nor  did  they  know 
when  she  died. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  Silvia  went  to  her,  hopng  to 
cheer  her,  and  found  her  dead. 


THEOWN    ON   THE   WOKLD.  117 

Yet  it  was  no  surprise ;  they  had  known  her  hours 
were  numbered ;  the  nurse  had  said  that  she  could  not 
live  until  sunset. 

The  doctor  had  foretold  that  a  few  hours  at  the  most 
must  end  her  life. 

No  one  had  doubted  of  her  immediate  death  but  the 
husband  who  laughed  at  her  dying  appeal. 

It  was  a  melancholy  end.  She  might  have  been  so 
happy  in  the  love  of  a  good  man.  She  was  young,  fair, 
rich ;  she  had  every  prospect  once  of  a  long  and  happy 
life,  and  all  was  destroyed  through  her  own  weakness  in 
marrying  a  man  of  whom  every  one  spoke  ill,  against 
whom  her  best  friends  warned  her — a  man  who  had 
never  loved  her,  whose  neglect  and  unkind  ness  had  most 
surely  broken  her  heart,  who  had  laughed  at  her  dying 
appeal,  and  sent  her  to  death  with  terrible  despair  as  her 
portion. 

Silvia  waited  for  him. 

She  had  not  expected  him  any  earlier  than  usual ;  but, 
to  her  surprise,  it  was  not  much  after  midnight  when  he 
came. 

He  entered  the  house  with  a  careless  smile,  taking  no 
heed  of  the  grave  face  of  the  servant  who  opened  the 
door. 

Then  Silvia  stepped  forward  to  meet  him. 

"  Ah !  Mrs.  Rymer,  I  have  kept  my  word,  you  see. 
Now,  I  will  go  and  see  Mrs.  Thornton ;  she  ought  to 
think  herself  flattered.  I  have  left  the  most  brilliant 
party  in  London  for  her ;  I  was  late,  though,  thanks  to 
you,  and  I  am  one  of  those  who  think  it  bad  taste  to  be 
too  late  for  dinner." 

Silvia  made  no  reply. 

She  led  the  way  to  Mrs.  Thornton's  room  ;  it  was  in 
darkness,  save  for  the  tapers  that  burned  round  the  dead. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  entered  the  room  and 
no  tender  voice  greeted  him ;  no  sweet,  worn  face  flush- 
ed at  the  sound  of  his  footsteps.  She  who  had  loved  him 
so  well  lay  there,  calm  and  silent,  wrapped  in  the  dignifi- 
ed majesty  of  death. 

He  started  back  in  undisguised  horror. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  he  cried.    "  My  God  !  what  is  this  ?  " 


118  THROWN    ON    THE    WOKLD. 

Silvia  took  his  hand,  and  led  him  close  to  his  dead 
wife's  side. 

"  That  is  your  work  ! "  she  said  ;  "  look  well  at  it. 
Some  men  drop  poison  in  the  food  that  is  given  to  their 
wives;  sometimes  a  man  loses  his  patience,  and  stabs  a 
woman.  You  have  done  neither — you  have  deliberately, 
willfully  broken  her  heart,  and  you  know  it ;  you  have 
done  it  purposely.  You  married  her  without  love,  and 
every  hour  of  fcer  married  life  has  been  full  of  untold 
pain  to  her.  The  last  cry  of  her  broken  heart,  her  last 
appeal  to  you,  you  have  disregarded  —  you  would  not 
listen  to  it.  Now,  look,  look  at  that  face !  You  know, 
perhaps,  that  death  should  be  calm,  serene,  happy,  with  a 
light  not  all  of  this  world  on  the  quiet  brow,  and  a  smile 
on  the  lips.  Look  at  that  face  I  look  at  its  heart-break, 
its  anguish,  its  despair!  You  sent  her  to  death  with 
despair  in  her  heart !  " 

He  stood  in  perfect  silence,  great  drops  on  his  brow, 
and  a  livid  hue  on  his  face. 

"  Upon  my  soul,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not  believe  it ;  I 
did  not  think  she  was  dying — I  have  heard  so  many  false 
alarms!  If  I  had  thought  it,  I  would  not  have  gone  out." 

14  Yet  I  told  you,"  she  said.  "  You  did  not  care  to 
believe  it — you  did  not  wish  to  believe  it.  I  do  not  think 
you  would  have  given  up  one  hour's  pleasure  to  have 
saved  her  life." 

Silvia  was  not  quite  free  from  superstition. 

"  I  must  tell  you,"  she  said,  "  that  your  wife's  last 
•words  wore  that  no  grave  could  hold  her,  that  she  could 
never  rest  until  she  had  looked  upon  your  face  again, 
and  I  warn  you  that  she  will  see  you  !  " 

"  Do  not  say  such  things — you  might  see  that  I  am 
frightened  to  death  as  it  is." 

And  the  man  who  had  been  so  expert  a  tyrant  sudden- 
ly became  the  most  timorous  of  cowards. 

- 1  am  frightened,"  he  said.  "  Do  let  me  come 
out  of  this  gloomy  place;  and  I  cannot  sleep  alone. 
Where  is  Adolphe?  he  must  sleep  in  my  room;  and  let 
me  have  plenty  of  lights,  plcasr.  Poor  Clara!  Upon 
my  won!  I  am  sorry  for  her — very  sorry." 

After  those  words  he  quitted  the  room. 


THROWN   ON    THE   WORLD.  119 

Silvia  heard  him  asking  for  brandy,  ordering  more 
lights,  talking  loudly  to  drown  his  fears  ;  and  her  heart 
rebelled  against  the  coward,  who  had  not  been  afraid  to 
break  his  wife's  heart,  but  who  was  afraid  of  her  now 
that  she  was  dead. 

He  never  entered  her  room  again. 

All  the  preparations  for  her  funeral  were  left  to  Silvia. 

He  grumbled  frightfully  at  the  idea  that  he  was  oblig- 
ed to  attend  that. 

"  Horrible  work !  dull — tedious  enough  to  give  a  man 
the  horrors — it  would  make  him  ill  for  weeks.  A  funeral, 
when  the  very  sight  of  the  trappings  of  death  unnerved 
him." 

"  If  I  could  but  make  some  excuse  for  not  going,"  he 
said  to  Silvia,  on  the  morning  of  the  funeral. 

She  looked  at  him  with  contempt. 

His  face  was  white,  his  lips  blue  —  he  presented  the 
most  abject  picture  of  terror. 

"  I  think  it  is  of  very  little  consequence  whether  you 
go  or  not,"  she  said.  "  You  paid  no  respect  to  the  poor 
lady  during  her  life,  it  seems  a  mere  farce  for  you  to 
attempt  it  now  she  is  dead." 

"  I  must  go,  or  the  world  will  never  stop  talking;  and, 
Mrs.  Rymer,  I  owe  you  no  ill  -  will,  but  I  do  wish  you 
had  been  miles  away  before  you  had  talked  all  that  non- 
sense about  my  wife,  you  know,  corning  back  to  look  at 
me;  of  course  it  is  all  nonsense,  she  cannot  do  any  such 
thing ;  but  it  lias  frightened  me.  All  night  long  I  am 
expecting  to  see  her  stand  by  my  bedside  ;  when  a  door 
opens,  I  expect  to  see  her  enter.  I  do  not  believe  it; 
but  did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  case  happening?  " 

u  I  cannot  tell  —  I  have  heard  of  strange  things;  but 
whether  they  are  true  or  not,  I  believe  honestly,  from 
the  very  depth  of  my  heart,  that  your  wife  will  come  to 
take  her  last  look  at  you." 

She  was  startled  by  his  cry  of  terror. 

"  I  shall  die  if  she  does ;  I  will  never  be  left  alone 
again,  come  what  may." 

And  before  he  went  to  the  funeral,  Silvia  saw  that  ho 
drank  a  tumbler  of  brandy.  Yet  even  that  gnve  him 
neither  courage,  nor  nerve. 


120  THBOWN    ON   THE   WORLD. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

A  CHILD    WITHOUT    A    NAME. 

THE  funeral  was  over,  the  hapless  lady  was  laid  to  rest, 
the  blinds  were  drawn  up  in  the  darkened  house,  the 
gloom  was  all  ended,  the  servants  were  pleased  with  their 
new  mourning,  and  as  death  in  the  family  always  neces- 
sitates a  little  extra  good  living,  the  cook  was  engaged  in 
the  preparation  of  a  recherche  little  repast,  to  be  served 
up  in  the  servants'  hall  when  the  funeral  baked  meats 
should  be  done  away  with. 

In  all  the  world,  who  mourned  for  her  except  the 
guardian  whose  advice  she  had  despised,  and  the  young 
girl  who  had  nursed  her  so  tenderly  and  so  skillfully? 

Silvia  had  resolved  that  she  would  not  remain  in  the 
house  one  hour  after  the  funeral  was  over. 

There  had  been  no  reading  of  a  will,  simply  because 
the  poor  lady  had  made  none — she  had  nothing  to  will. 
IK-r  fortune  had  passed  into  her  husband's  hands  at  her 
marriage. 

After  the  funeral,  Mr.  Thornton  seemed  to  recover  his 
scattered  senses.  He  had  handsomely  paid  the  nurse 
who  had  attended  upon  his  wife,  and  she,  softened  by 
the  handsome  present,  declared  he  was  a  strange  kind  of 
gentleman,  but  that  he  was  a  gentleman  after  all. 

The  doctors  were  presented  with  heavy  fees,  which 
quite  removed  all  doubt  as  to  Mr.  Thornton  being  a  good 
husband.  Then  he  sent  for  Mrs.  Rymer,  but  she  would 
not  accept  one  shilling  more  than  her  due. 

He  said  something  about  filling  up  a  check  ;  she  told 
him  that  she  should  take  nothing  but  the  money  owing 
to  her. 

"  At  least,"  he  eaid,  "  you  will  let  me  offer  you  your 
choice  from  my  poor  wife's  jewelry  ?  " 

1  No,"  she  said  ;  «  I  have  this  ring  which  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton gave  to  me  before  she  died ;  I  need  nothing  else  to 
remind  me  of  her." 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  121 

r- 

*  You  are  determined  to  keep  your  ill  opinion  of 
me  ? "  he  said. 

"  I  shall  never  think  differently  of  you,  Mr.  Thorn- 
ton," she  replied,  simply  ;  "  I  would  rather  not  discuss 
anything  of  the  past  with  you." 

Just  as  she  was  leaving  the  house  a  note  from  Mr. 
Latham  was  put  into  her  hands;  she  opened  it  and  found 
it  was  from  Mrs.  Latham,  asking  her  to  call  upon  them. 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  all  about  the  poor  child's 
death,"  she  wrote.  "  Pray  corne  to  me  as  soon  as  you 
can,  and,  for  your  kindness  to  her,  look  upon  me  as  your 
friend  for  life.  I  have  heard  of  an  engagement  that  may 
probably  suit  you.  Lady  lanthe  Hutton,  the  only  daugh- 
ter of  the  Earl  of  Leeson,  wants  a  companion,  and  from 
what  I  hear  of  you,  you  will,  I  imagine,  be  very  suitable 
for  the  office." 

The  girl's  heart  filled  with  gratitude.  After  all  her 
troubles,  her  despondency,  her  despair,  how  good  Heaven 
had  been  to  her.  Home  and  friends  did  not  seem  to  fail 
her  all  through,  and  she  had  been  thrown  so  young  and 
so  helpless,  so  lonely  on  the  wide,  wide  world. 

She  went  at  once  to  Mrs.  Latham's  and  gave  the  weep- 
ing lady  the  history  of  Clara's  last  hours. 

"  I  did  love  her,"  said  Mrs.  Latham.  "  She  was  a 
sweet,  docile,  gentle  girl ;  yet  she  never  did  well  for  one 
single  hour  after  she  met  that  wretched  man.  It  was  a 
miserable  end  for  her,  but  alas!  an  end  only  too  common, 
when  a  girl  despises  good  counsel  and  neglects  good 
advice." 

Then  she  told  Silvia  that  Lady  Leeson  would  be  pleas- 
ed to  see  her  on  the  morrow. 

"  I  think  you  will  be  happy  with  Lady  lanthe,"  she 
said.  "  I  have  met  her  several  times ;  she  is  very  beauti- 
ful, and  amiable,  I  should  imagine." 

""Why  does  she  require  a  companion?  "  asked  Silvia. 

"  I  do  not  know.  Lady  Leeson  told  me  that  she  should 
very  much  like  to  find  some  nice  lady -like  girl  to  be 
with  her  daughter.  I  did  not  ask  her  why.  If  you  call 
there  to-morrow,  you  will  probably  hear  more." 

She  bade  Silvia  adieu  very  kindly. 


122  THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  Remember,"  she  paid,  "  that  for  jour  kindness  to 
that  unhappy  child,  I  am  your  friend  for  life." 

As  Silvia  was  leaving  the  house,  a  servant  followed 
her  to  say  that  Mr.  Latham  wished  to  see  her.  She 
went  into  the  library,  where  he  sat  surrounded  by  books 
and  papers. 

"  You  are  forgetting  the  principal  part  of  your  busi- 
ness here,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "•  What  about  your 
annuity  ?  " 

It  certainly  spoke  well  for  her  disinterestedness  that 
she  had  not  thought  of  it, 

"  It  certainly  made  poor  Clara  happier  in  dying,"  he 
said,  "  to  know  that  she  had  made  some  small  provision 
for  you,  and  her  last  wi^h  shall  bo  carried  out." 

She  was  too  simple  and  inexperienced  to  ask  him  how. 
It  seemed  to  her  as  it  had  done  to  Mrs.  Thornton,  that  he 
could  do  anything  he  liked. 

Mr.  Latham  dipped  a  pen  in  the  massive  inkstand.     . 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "yon  have  but  to  sign  your  name  on 
these  two  parchments,  and  you  are  mistress  of  a  thousand 
pounds  in  the  funds.  You  will  find  it  useful  to  YOU  some 
day." 

How  useful  neither  of  them  guessed  in  that  hour. 
Then,  after  kindly  words  of  commendation  from  him,  she 
went  away.  The  great  longing  of  her  heart  was  to  see 
little  Cyril.  During  Mrs.  Thornton's  long  illness  she  had 
been  unable  to  go  away,  and  a  great  fear  was  upon  her 
that  he  would  have  forgotten  her— the  baby  forget  her! 

t  seemed  to  Silvia  as  though  no  horse  was  ever  so  slow 
as  this  one  which  was  taking  her  to  Harnpstead  ;  she  only 
wondered  then  that  she  had  been  able  to  remain  away  so 
long. 

Another  half  hour  and  she  was  seated  in  the  little  cot- 
tage, holding  baby  on  her  knees.     "Well,  of  course  there 
never  was  snob  another  baby,  so  perfect,  so  beautiful,  so 
clever;  and  be  was  like — oh!  so  like  her  false  lover;  so 
ike  him  that  even'  glance  of  the  eyes,  every  turn  of  the 
graceful  little  hem!,  was  like  a  dagger  in  the  girl's  heart. 
3h,  baby— baby ! "  she  r-ried,^  with  passionate  tears, 
•  why  are  you  so  like  him,  and  he  was  so  cruel  to  me— so 
false  !  ' 


THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD.  123 

But  baby  knew  nothing  about  it ;  his  little  fingers 
played  with  his  mother's  hair,  his  pretty  red  lips  were 
raised  to  kiss  her.  What  did  baby  understand  about  his 
mother's  troubles  and  his  father's  desertion  —  what  did 
baby  know  about  her  being  thrown  on  the  wide,  wide 
world ! 

It  was  one  of  the  prettiest  pictures  in  the  world  ;  the 
young  mother  with  her  sheen  of  golden  hair  and  her  fair 
face,  prattling,  talking  almost  like  a  baby  herself,  burying 
her  face  in  the  bright,  golden  curls,  telling  him  that 
Heaven  had  been  so  good  to  them,  that  come  what  would, 
there  was  no  danger  of  starvation  for  them. 

"  Baby  was  to  go  to  school,  baby  should  have  new 
clothes,  and  baby  should  be  a  little  prince." 

All  of  which  baby  devoutly  believed,  crowing  with 
delight,  and  doing  his  best  to  entangle  every  curl  on  his 
mother's  head. 

"  Mamma  and  baby  will  always  be  alone,"  she  said, 
"  alone  in  the  world ;  but  they  will  love  each  other  so 
dearly,  so  dearly." 

Yet,  in  the  midst  of  her  happiness  at  seeing  him,  she 
wept  bitter  tears  when  she  remembered  she  could  give 
him  love,  care,  and  affection,  but  she  could  never  while 
he  lived  give  him  a  name. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

LADT  IANTHE'S  CHOICE. 

ANOTHER  week,  and  Mrs.  Rymer  found  herself  install- 
ed as  companion  to  the  Lady  lanthe  Hutton  ;  although 
what  that  exalted  young  lady  wanted  with  a  companion 
puzzled  her  greatly. 

The  Countess  Leeson,  who  engaged  her,  had  not  been 
very  explicit  on  the  subject.  After  they  had  discussed 
it  for  some  time  during  their  first  interview,  Lady  Lee- 
son  had  said,  very  frankly : 

"  I  want  a  companion  for  my  daughter,  on  the  princi- 
ple that  '  constant  dropping  wears  away  stone.'  ' 

"  Am  I  to  be  the  stone?  "  asked  Silvia,  with  a  smile. 

M  No,"  replied  my  lady.    "  To  carry  out  the  simile 


124  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

properly,  Lady  lanthe  would  be  the  stone,  and  you  the 
dropping  water.     You  will  understand  better  when  you 
have  been  with  us  some  little  time.     I  cannot  give  my 
confidence  to  a  stranger,  but  I  like  your  face,  and  trust 
you  ;  if  you  justify  my  liking,  I  will  soon  tell  you  why 
my  daughter,  in  my  opinion,  requires  a  companion." 
Then  Mrs.  Rymer  asked  to  see  the  Lady  lanthe. 
"  It  might  be  possible  that  Lady  lanthe  would  not  like 
me ;  it  would  be  much  better  that  she  should  see  me." 

The  countess  laughed.  She  gave  Silvia  the  idea  of  a 
French  woman  more  than  an  English  one.  She  was  hand- 
Rome,  with  a  stately  kind  of  beauty  ;  gracious,  with  a  kind 
of  dignified  condescension  that  did  not  sit,  ill  upon  her; 
yet  one  could  tell  that  beneath  that  amiable,  half  yield- 
ing ha  If -caressing  manner,  there  was  a  will  of  iron  :  it 
was  the  iron  hand  sheathed  with  the  velvet  glove.  Her 
eyes  were  fine — blue,  bright,  and  winsome,  but  in  their 
depths  was  something  no  one  understood  properly — firm- 
ness that  was  more  masculine  than  feminine;  she  was 
the  kind  of  woman  who  would  have  made  her  way  over 
red-hot  plowshares,  but  she  would  have  gone  direct. 

"  The  countess  is  very  firm,"  her  friends,  servants,  and 
dependents  said  of  her;  but  the  depth  of  that  firmness  no 
one  properly  understood  save  those  who  suffered  from  it. 
In  compliance  with  Mrs.  Rymcr's  request,  she  rang  the 
bell  and  asked  for  the  Lady  lanthe.  Silvia  could  not  help 
feeling  some  slight  curiosity  as  to  what  the  young  lady 
would  be  like. 

The  door  opened  a  few  minutes  afterward,  and  she 
entered  the  room.  She  did  not  resemble  Hie  countess. 
Lady  Leeson's  hair  was  dark  brown,  her  daughter's  bur- 
nished gold  ;  Lady  Lesson  had  a  brightly  colored  face,  her 
daughters  was  clear,  delicate,  pale  as  a  lily-leaf.  The 
most  striking  part  of  her  beauty  was,  that  while  her  hair 
was  of  burnished  gold,  and  her  "face  fairer  than  the  fairest 
flower,  her  eyes  were  dark— in  hue  resembling  a  purple 
heart's-ease—  with  a  golden  light  shining  through  them; 
her  brows  straight,  clear,  and  dark.  Had  her  eyes  been 
blue  or  gray,  she  would  still  have  been  a  beautiful  girl ; 
but,  with  this  striking  peculiarity,  she  was  lovely  as  a 
vision.  She  wore  a  plain  white  morning  dress,  fastened 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  125 

with  a  golden  prin ;  no  other  ornaments,  no  flowers,  no 
jewels,  except  that  her  hands  were  covered  with  costly 
shining  rings. 

She  looked  up  with  some  little  curiosity  as  she  entered 
the  room,  and  round  Lady  Leeson's  lips  there  hoveled 
the  faintest  smile. 

"  You  wished  to  see  me,  mamma,"  she  said,  in  a  low, 
sweet  voice. 

"  I  wish  to  introduce  Mrs.  Rymer  to  you "  said  the 
countess. 

"  Mrs.  Rymer !  "  repeated  the  low  voice,  in  calm  sur- 
prise. 

"  The  lady  who  is  kind  enough  to  consent  to  be  your 
companion,"  said  Lady  Leeson. 

There  were  both  contempt  and  surprise  in  the  beauti- 
ful face. 

"  You  have  persevered  in  your  resolution,  mamma.  I 
did  not  know  it." 

Then  she  looked  at  Silvia,  and  her  face  relaxed  as  she 
did  so. 

"  You  will  not  prove  to  be  a  very  formidable  com- 
panion," she  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  will  try  to  please  you  in  every  possible  way,"  was 
the  gentle  reply. 

And  then,  all  the  details  being  arranged,  it  was  settled 
that  she  should  come  to  them  on  that  day  week. 

"  I  should  be  glad,"  she  said  to  Lady  Leeson,  "  if  you 
would  give  me  some  idea  of  what  duties  I  shall  have  to 
perform.  Lady  lanthe  has  a  maid.  What  shall  I  be 
required  to  do  for  her  ?  " 

"  Read  to  her,  sing  to  her,  talk  to  her.  You  will  find 
quite  enough  to  do  when  you  have  been  with  us  a  short 
time." 

Yet  the  young  girl  left  the  house  in  a  state  of  bewilder- 
ment. She  could  not  possibly  understand  what  Lady 
lanthe  wanted  with  a  companion.  She  spent  a  week  at 
Hampstead  very  happily,  the  little  Cyril  growing  more 
beautiful  to  her  loving  eyes  every  day,  yet  so  fatally  like 
him — the  false,  cruel,  treacherous  lover  who  had  stolen 
her  heart  away.  Then  she  went  back  to  Dale  House. 

Her  bewilderment  lasted   for  a  few  days ;   then   she 


126  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

began  to  understand   why   she   was  engaged.     She  had 
thought  deeply  over  the  matter. 

u  I  am  so  young,"  she  said — "  hardly  twenty  yet — and 
I  seem  to  have  seen  so  much  of  life.  Among  all  those  I 
have  known,  I  have  not  met  one  whose  life  was  common- 
place; whatever  the  surface  might  be  like — plain,  un- 
varnished, homely — underneath  there  have  been  the  ele- 
ments of  a  grand  tragedy.  Who  that  looked  at  Cleve 
House  would  have  thought  a  broken-hearted  woman  lay 
dying  there?  Who  that  looked  a£  Lake  Cottage  would 
have  thought  a  blighted,  miserable  life  had  been  almost 
brought  to  a  close  there  ?  I  shall  never  believe  in  the 
commonplace  again.  Lady  lanthe  is  an  only  daughter, 
beautiful,  admired,  but  who  knows  what  tragedy  under- 
lies the  seeming  quiet  of  that  peaceful  life  ?  " 

On  the  first  day  of  her  arrival  she  went  into  Lady 
lanthe's  dressing-room.  She  was  preparing  for  a  ball ; 
a  superb  dress  lay  ready,  jewels  were  shining  in  their 
cases;  the  maid,  Honor  Preston,  stood  anxiously  awaiting 
her  young  mistress's  decision. 

A  servant  had  just  brought  two  beautiful  bouquets 
into  the  room,  the  first  composed  of  the  most  costly 
exotics,  with  Lord  Monford'a  compliments — the  other  of 
white  lilies,  sent  by  Mr.  Clifford  Raymond. 

Mrs.  Rytner,  whose  only  occupation  just  then  was  ar- 
ranging the  white,  soft  plumage  of  a  costly  fan,  looked 
up  and  watched  her.  She  did  not  pay  the  least  heed 
when  Lord  Monford's  superb  bouquet  was  taken  in.  She 
never  even  raised  her  eyes,  or  gave  it  the  least  sign  of 
having  heard  the  name. 

Bat  it  was  far  otherwise  when  Mr.  Raymond's  name 
was  mentioned.  She  held  out  her  hands  for  the  flowers, 
a  lovely  smile  playing  round  her  lips,  a  tender  light  in 
her  eyes,  as  though  she  were  gazing  upon  something  she 
loved. 

She  laid  the  sweet,  white  lilies  on  the  table  near  her 
and  Silvia  noted  how  her  eyes  lingered  on  them. 

'[  Which  bouquet  will  you  carry,  my  lady  ?  "  asked  the 
said,  in  a  calm,  business-like  voice. 

The  white  one,"  replied  Lady  lanthe,  and  the  very 
cone  of  her  voice  was  to  Silvia  like  a  caress. 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  127 

"  This  is  far  more  beautiful,"  said  Honor ;  "  these 
little  pink  bells  are  superb.  See,  my  lady." 

But  Lady  lanthe  made  no  reply ;  the  business  of  the 
toilet  went  on,  and  in  a  short  time  was  completed,  the 
young  girl  herself  looking  beautiful  as  a  vision. 

"  Where  is  my  fan  ?  "  she  asked,  and  Silvia  placed  it  in 
her  hands,  thinking  that  she  spoke  hurriedly.  The  maid 
stood  ready  with  a  crimson  opera  cloak. 

"  Quick !  "  said  my  lady,  imperiously ;  but  before  she 
had  finished  the  word,  in  sailed  the  countess,  looking 
superb  in  satin  and  diamomds. 

"  You  are  dressed,  lanthe ;  that  is  well.  We  shall  not 
be  late." 

The  calm,  critical  eyes  looked  at  the  lovely  young 
figure  from  head  to  foot  with  an  expression  of  keen 
approval. 

"  Your  dress  is  in  excellent  taste,  but  "  —  her  eyes  fall- 
ing on  the  white  lilies  —  "  what  paltry  flowers  have  you 
there  ?  " 

The  beautiful  face  flushed  deepest  crimson.  She  held 
her  lilies  in  her  hand. 

"  No  one  could  call  such  flowers  as  these  paltry,  mam- 
ma ;  they  are  exquisite." 

"  They  are  very  well  for  lilies ;  but  when  I  heard  Lord 
Monford  had  sent  a  bouquet,  I  expected  something  very 
different." 

Lady  lanthe  made  no  reply;  she  was  evidently  not 
intending  to  tell  the  real  state  of  the  case,  when  the 
countess,  looking  round,  saw  the  rival  bouquet,  lying 
all  unheeded  on  a  chair. 

"  What  superb  flowers,"  she  said.  "  Pray  who  sent 
these  ?  " 

Then  Lady  lanthe  raised  her  eyes  to  her  mother's 
face. 

"  Lord  Monford  sent  them,"  she  replied. 

"  And  these  ?  "  asked  the  countess,  pointing  to  the 
lilies. 

Lady  lanthe's  face  flushed. 

"  These,"  she  replied,  clasping  th«  lilies  more  tightly, 
"  these  came  from  Mr.  Kaymond." 


328  THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD. 

"  Pnt  them  away,  lantlie :  they  are  really  too  common. 
They  quite  destroy  the  effect  of  your  dress." 

"  I  prefer  them  to  the  others,"  was  the  reply,  and  then 
the  two  ladies  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Lady  lanthe,"  said  the  countess,  "  you  please  your- 
self, of  course ;  but  if  you  persist  in  carrying  those  lilies, 
I  refuse  to  take  you  to  the  ball." 

The  young  girl  turned  away. 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  stay  at  home,  mamma,"  she  said, 
quietly,  and  the  countess,  without  another  word,  swept 
from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

A   HOUSE   WITH    A    MYSTERY. 

CALMLY  as  she  had  spoken,  Lady  lanthe  removed  her 
jewels.  The  maid,  standing  by,  witli  a  puzzled,  perplex- 
ed face,  looked  as  though  she  hardly  understood. 

"  Bring  me  a  wrapper,"  said  Lady  lanthe,  calmly, 
"  and  put  this  dress  away." 

When  Honor  had  gone  to  do  her  bidding,  Lady  lanthe 
turned  to  her  companion. 

"  Mrs.  Rymer,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  obnoxious 
bouquet,  "  will  you  oblige  me  by  taking  those  flowers 
down-stairs  and  putting  them  into  the  tire  ?  " 

"Burn  them!  "  repeated  Silvia.  "  Oh!  Lady  lanthe, 
I  could  not;  it  seems  to  me  they  are  living,  and  would 
cry  out  when  the  flames  touched  them." 

"  You  are  fanciful.  If  they  did  cry  out  I  know  what 
they  would  say." 

"  What  would  it  be?  "  asked  Silvia. 

"  They  would  ask  pardon  for  coming  where  they  were 
not  wanted.  Seriously,  Mrs.  Rymer,  do  remove  them  ; 
spare  their  lives  if  you  do  not  'wish  to  kill  them  ;  take 
them  to  your  own  room  ;  you  seem  fond  of  flowers." 

"I  love  them  dearly,"  she  replied,  thinking  of  the 
roses  and  lilies  at  Brae," arid  how  lovingly  she  had  tended 
them.  Lady  lanthe  did  not  seem  inclined  to  continue 
the  conversation.  Silvia  took  up  the  flowers  and  quitted 
the  room,  not,  however,  before  she  had  seen  the  beautiful 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  129 

face  bent  over  the  lilies,  and  the  lovely  lips  kissing  them 
with  endearing  words. 

Mother  and  daughter  were  equally  well  bred  :  they 
met  on  the  morning  after  the  little  encounter  amicably  as 
usual.  Lady  Leeson  talked  of  the  ball ;  Lady  Ian  the 
asked  who  was  there. 

"  You  must  look  to  your  laurels,  lanthe,"  said  her 
mother,  smilingly  ;  "  last  year  yon  were  called  '  La  Reine 
Blonde,'  this  year  I.  think  Cecile  Everington  eclipses 
you." 

"Does  she?  I  did  not  find  the  role  of  queen  very 
ineresting  ;  it  may  please  her  better." 

"  I  think  it  will ;  she  is  a  very  charming  girl.  The 
Duke  of  Crifton,  Lord  Monford,  and  many  of  the  best 
men  in  the  room  seemed  quite  enchanted  with  her.  I 
felt  half  offended.  Lady  Reny  told  me  you  were  not 
missed." 

If  the  proud  mother  were  trying  to  pique  the  proud 
daughter  into  anything  like  jealousy  she  did  not  succeed  ; 
the  beautiful  face  was  calm  and  unmoved  as  possible. 
They  talked  on,  Lady  Leeson  telling  anecdotes,  Lady 
lanthe  listening  and  commenting,  when  the  earl  entered 
the  room,  and  Silvia  saw  him  for  the  first  time.  He 
started  at  the  sight  of  the  delicate,  lovely  face  and  deep 
mourning  dress ;  then  he  spoke  very  kindly  to  Mrs. 
Rymer. 

"  Discussing  the  ball!  "  he  said  carelessly.  "  How  was 
it  you  did  not  go,  lanthe  ?  I  understood  you  were  to 
accompany  your  mother." 

"  I  displeased  mamma,"  was  the  candid  reply,  "  and 
ehe  told  me  I  had  better  remain  at  home." 

"  What  did  you  do?"  asked  the  earl,  with  a  smile 
that  was  half  a  frown. 

"  I  refused  to  take  the  bouquet  Lord  Monford  sent  me, 
and  I  wanted  the  one  that  Mr.  Raymond  brought.  Mam- 
ma would  not  let  me  have  it,  so  I  stayed  at  home." 

The  Earl  Leeson  looked  as  though  it  would  have  been 
a  great  relief  to  him  if  he  could  have  whistled  aloud ;  as 
it  was,  he  contented  himself  by  saying  : 

"  If  yon  are  wise,  lanthe,  you  will  follow  your  mother's 
wishes." 


130  THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD. 

"But,"  she  replied,  raising  her  eyes  to  his  with  a 
charming  smile,  u  I  am  not  wise,  papa,  and,  in  that  sense, 
never  shall  be." 

Visitors  came,  and  Mrs.  Rymer  left  the  room,  wonder- 
ing a  little  at  what  she  had  heard.  Later  on  that  day  the 
countess  sent  for  her.  She  closed  the  door  of  her  dress- 
ing-room, and  seemed  to  have  a  great  desire  for  a  private 
and  confidential  conversation. 

"  Mrs.  Rymer,"  she  said,  gently,  "  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  what  my  daughter  did  yesterday — last  evening  rather 
— with  those  flowers." 

Silvia  half -hesitated. 

"  Mind,"  she  continued,  "  if  I  am  asking  yon  these 
questions,  it  is  not  that  I  want  you  to  be  a  spy  upon  my 
daughter.  It  is  in  her  true  interest  and  as  her  best  friend 
that  I  ask  you  the  question.  Of  course,  you  can  please 
yourself  whether  you  answer  me  or  not,"  she  concluded, 
haughtily. 

Silvia  thought  for  a  few  minutes. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  a  girl's  mother  mnst 
be  her  best  friend.  Oh,  if  I  had  but  trusted  mine,  how 
different  all  my  life  would  have  been  !  " 

"  Have  you  decided  upon  answering  me  ? "  asked  Lady 
Leeson,  proudly. 

Silvia  looked  up  at  her. 

;<  Yes,"  she  replied  ;  "  I  was  wrong  to  hesitate.  Nat- 
urally, you  must  be  the  Lady  lanthe's  truest  friend." 

The  handsome  face  cleared  ;  Lady  Leeson  looked  pleas- 
ed. 

*  You  speak  sensibly  Mrs.  Rymer.     I  trust  in  you  to 
find  a  sensible  friend  and  ally." 

*  Lady  lanthe  asked  me  to  destroy  the  flowers  sent  to 
her  by  Lord  Monford.     The  others  she  has  most  careful- 
ly pn-.-rvi'd  in  her  room." 

Lady  iook-.'d  terribly  angry. 

Ho\\-  iiiii  1  to  bring  nuch'a  girl'to  reason?"  she  said 
to  herself.     Then  aloud  Mie  continued  : 

"I  thank   you.   Mrs.  Rymer.     I  bpgin  to  understand 
t  you  are  to  b,.  trusted.     I  shall  .«,,<»n  tell   you  how 
constant  dropping  is  to  wear  away  Ptone." 

Lady  Leeson  was  very  diplomatic;  she  did  not  allude 


THEOWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  131 

to  the  matter  again  ;  she  was  most  cordial  and  friendly 
with  her  beautiful  daughter,  yet  Mrs.  Rymer  noticed  that 
her  conversation  chiefly  consisted  of  remarks  about  those 
fortunate  girls  who  had  married  well,  and  pity  for  those 
who  had  done  badly. 

There  was  a  mystery  in  this  gorgeous  mansion;  there 
was  a  tragedy  in  this  sumptuous  home,  where  one  would 
have  thought  racking  care  could  not  come. 

One  day,  Silvia,  having  rapped  at  the  door  of  Lady 
lanthe's  room,  and  hearing  no  answer,  naturally  con- 
cluded no  one  was  there.  She  opened  the  door  aud  went 
in,  when  suddenly  Lady  lanthe  sprung  from  her  seat  at 
the  writing-table  and  cried  aloud.  Her  face  in  that  one 
moment  turned  ghastly  white ;  she  took  up  the  paper 
she  had  been  writing  and  tore  it  into  shreds.  Then  the 
mist  of  fear  seemed  to  clear  from  before  her  eyes. 

"  How  you  frightened  me,  Mrs.  Rymer,"  she  said  ; 
"  how  cruelly  you  frightened  me." 

"  Did  you  not  hear  me  at  the  door? "  asked  Silvia. 

v'  No,  I  did  not;  I  thought  it  was  mamma,  and  I  have 
Destroyed  my  letter.  I  need  not  have  done  that.  Do 
not  startle  me  so  again ;  my  heart  beats  as  though  it 
would  oreak." 

Silvia  saw  that  she  ^embled  so  violently  she  could 
hardly  stand. 

"  One  moral  is,  never  to  enter  a  room  without  suffi- 
cient warning,"  she  said,  laughingly;  "another  is  Lady 
lanthe,  never  write  a  letter  that  you  are  so  terribly 
afraid  of  being  seen." 

She  said  the  words  gently,  not  knowing  how  the  earl's 
daughter  would  brook  reproof  from  the  humble  com- 
panion. 

Lady  lanthe  sighed  deeply. 

"  You  are  right,"  she  said ;  "  but  when  one  is  drawn 
into  a  web,  one  must  get  out  of  it." 

Another  day — it  was  warm,  sultry,  and  oppressive — 
Lady  lanthe  had  gone  into  the  dressing- room,  and  asked 
Mrs.  Rymer,  of  whom  she  was  growing  very  fond,  to  go 
and  read  with  her. 

The  heat  was  very  great,  and  she  unfastened  the  high, 
white  bodice,  and,  Silvia,  gaw,  while  bending  over  her, 


132  THROWN    ON    THE    \VOKLD. 

round  her  neck  a  gold  chain  of  peculiar  workmanship. 
Silvia  touched  it. 

"  How  pretty  this  is,  Lady  lanthe,"  she  said.  "  It  is 
Venetian,  is  it  not  ?  " 

Slie  was  astonished  to  see  the  beautiful  face  flush,  and 
the  glorious  eyes  grow  tender  and  dim. 

"It  is  Venetian,"  she  replied:  "  but  I  did  not  know 
my  chain  could  be  seen.  I  must  alter  that." 

"  It  is  pretty  enough  to  be  seen  and  admired,"  said 
Silvia. 

Lady  lanthe  laughed.  She  took  it  in  her  slender  white 
fingers  and  kissed  it. 

"  I  must  hide  it,"  she  said.  "  Oh,  if  any  one  knew 
what  my  pretty  chain  held,  earthquakes  would  be  nothing 
to  it!  " 

And  Silvia,  looking  at  it,  saw  at  the  end  a  small  silver 
bag.  What  could  it  hold  that  earthquakes  would  be  noth- 
ing to  it  ? 

After  that  day  she  noticed  how  often  Lady  lanthe,  in 
speaking,  in  thinking,  in  reading,  would  touch  the  chain 
with  her  fingers,  and  when  she  did  touch  it,  what  a 
happy  smile  played  round  her  lips  ! 

What  secret  had  this  proud  daughter  of  this  proud 
earl  ?  What  mystery  was  infolded  in  this  life,  outwardly 
so  calm  and  tranquil  ?  What  had  gone  wrong  with  her? 

It  was  with  no  slight  feeling  of  satisfaction  that  she 
noticed  how  much  Lady  lanthe  was  beginning  not  only 
to  like,  but  to  trust  her.  She  came  to  her  one  morning 
as  Silvia  was  dressed,  ready  to  go  out  on  some  little 
commission  for  Lady  Leeson. 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  favor  ?  "  she  said  ;  "  will  you  post 
this  letter  for  me  ?  "  •  ;  - 

"I  saw  the  post-bag  only  a  minute  ago  on  the  hall 
table,"  replied  Silvia,  really  believing  Lady  lanthe  did 
not  know  it  was  there. 

"  But  that  will  not  do ;  I  want  this  posted  unknown  to 
any  one." 

Mrs.  Rymer  looked  distressed. 

"  Do  not  ask  me,  Lady  lanthe,"  she  said  ;  "  I  would 
do  anything  for  you,  but  this  looks  like  treason  to  Lady 
Leeson.  Pray  do  not  ask  me," 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  133 

For  the  first  time  Lady  lanthe  bent  her  proud  bright 
head,  and  kissed  Silvia. 

"  You  are  true,"  she  said ;  "  true  of  heart,  and  I  shall 
trust  you." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A   RUINED   MAN. 

MRS.  RTMER  had  been  nearly  six  weeks  at  Dale  House, 
without  being  any  nearer  to  solving  the  mystery  than 
she  was  at  first.  Then  Lady  Leeson  sent  for  her  one  day, 
and  she  saw  the  time  had  come  when  she  was  to  know 
why  she  had  been  engaged  as  companion  to  Lady  lanthe. 

The  countess  looked  into  her  face  with  a  smile  as  she 
entered. 

'•  I  asked  you  to  come  to  my  dressing-room,"  she  said, 
"  because  I  want  to  speak  to  you  privately  and  confiden- 
tially. I  want  to  trust  you.  I  am  a  good  reader  of 
character,  and  I  have  read  yours.  You  have  a  secret  in 
your  life — that  much  I  can  tell.  But  I  have  no  wish  to 
know  it!  I  trust  you  implicitly.  Of  course  you  can  ruin 
us.  If  you  betray  my  secret  you  will  ruin  us ;  but  I 
would  trust  you  even  more  than  I  do  now  did  occasion 
require  it." 

"  You  do  me  justice,"  said  Mrs.  Rymer,  with  simple 
candor.  "  If  I  have  no  other  good  quality,  at  least  I  have 
that — I  am  quite  trustworthy. 

"  Now  sit  down,"  said  the  countess.  "  "We  shall  not 
be  interrupted,  Mrs.  Rymer.  That  which  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  you  must  never  repeat.  I  only  ask  your  word." 

"  That  I  pledge  you,"  she  replied.  "  Nothing  shall 
induce  me  to  reveal  one  word  of  what  your  ladyship  may 
say  to  me." 

The  countess  gave  a  great  sigh.  It  was  as  though  a 
mask  had  suddenly  fallen  from  her  face — a  mask,  the 
falling  of  which  Jeft  her  older  and  care-worn,  with  lines 
on  her  brow,  and  a  piteous  quivering  on  her  proud  lips. 
It  seemed  to  her  such  a  relief  that  she  was  to  tell  the 
truth,  even  though  it  was  to  this  humble  companion. 

"  Mrs.  Rymer?"  she  said,  "  my  husband,  the  Earl  of 


134  THROWN    ON    THE   WOULD. 

Leeson,  one  of  the  proudest  peers  in  England,  is  a 
ruined  man" 

Her  voice  seemed  to  die  away  on  her  lips  as  she  said 
the  words.  Silvia  looked  up  in  utter  wonder.  The 
master  of  this  magnificent  house,  this  superb  mansion,  a 
ruined  man  !  It  was  not  possible. 

"  How  it  has  happened,"  said  Lady  Leeson,  "  does 
not  matter.  My  lord  was  imprudent,  not  wicked — only 
weak  and  imprudent.  His  affairs  would  right  themselves 
in  the  course  of  time,  but  that  there  is  a  heavy  mortgage 
upon  his  property.  Do  you  understand  enough  of  busi- 
ness to  know  what  a  mortgage  is?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Silvia ;  "  I  understand  it  quite  well." 

Lady  Leeson  continued  — "  There  is  a  mortgage  of 
eighty  thousand  pounds  on  the  Leesdale  estates,  and  of 
twenty  thousand  on  this  mansion,  plate,  etc.  The  inter- 
£st  alone  is  enormous,  and  it  takes  a  large  irncome,  but 
that  is  not  the  worst  of  it.  If  that  money  never  had  to 
be  paid,  we  might  do;  but  if  the  mortgage  should  be 
suddenly  called  in  we  are  ruined  beyond  all  redemp- 
tion. Do  you  see?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  gravely  ;  "  I  understand." 

"  This  mortgage  money  was  lent — through  our  lawyers, 
of  course — by  Lord  Monford.  He  is  very  wealthy — one 
of  the  richest  men  in  England,  I  should  imagine — and  I 
fancy  that  he  loves  money. 

"  When  we  borrowed  this  my  husband  did  not  know 
who  advanced  it.  It  was  money  that  Lord  Mon ford's 
solicitor  had  to  put  out  at  interest ;  and  they  thought,  I 
suppose,  that  a  mortgage  on  Leesdale  was  as  secure  as 
anything  well  could  be." 

She  paused  for  a  few  minutes,  then  went  on  in  a  dry, 
iiard  voice: 

"  It  was  hard  for  us,  very  hard  ;  but  there  seemed  no 
help  for  it.  I  must  tell  yon  also,  that  it  was  agreed  this 
money  should  not  be  called  in  without  a  year's  notice. 
Six  months  ago  this  notice  came,  and  then  Lord  Leeson 
knew  himself  to  be  a  ruined  man  ;  —  where  and  how  was 
he  to  get  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  ?  But  Lord  Mon- 
ford's  advisers  had  seen  a  better  way  of  investing  the 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  135 

money — one  that  would  bring  in  a  higher  rate  of  inter- 
est ;  so  we  decided  that  the  blow  must  fall,  nothing 
could  avert  it.  What  the  decision  cost  us,  who  shall 
ever  know  ? 

"  My  lord  said  it  was  useless  for  the  world  to  know 
before  there  was  any  need,  so  that  we  should  come  up 
to  London  and  enjoy  our  last  season. 

"  I  must  tell  you  that  at  Leesdale  Park  we  have  some 
neighbors  called  Raymond.  They  live  on  a  pretty  little 
estate  called  Pentons.  They  are  good,  worthy  country 
people,  not  remarkable  in  any  way — neither  very  aristo- 
cratic, very  rich,  nor  very  clever  ;  but  they  have  a  son 
called  Clifford,  and  this  Clifford,  I  must  say,  is  handsome 
and  accomplished. 

"  Being  neighbors,  we  have,  of  course,  seen  a  great 
deal  of  the  Raymonds.  Clifford  and  my  daughter  Lady 
lanthe  were  very  great  friends,  little  lovers,  and  all  that 
kind  of  thing — I,  of  course,  looking  upon  it  as  childish 
folly  that  would  be  forgotton  when  they  grew  up. 

"  When  we  came  to  London,  our  hearts  full  of  distress 
and  trouble  that  was  carefully  hidden  from  the  world, 
my  husband  told  me  to  cheer  up.  '  lanthe  is  so  beauti- 
ful,' he  said,  '  so  greatly  admired,  she  may  marry  well, 
and  then  help  may  come  for  us.'  He  was  always  most 
sanguine  over  her  beauty,  and  the  good  fortune  it  might 
bring  us. 

"  That  which  we  thought  in  our  blindness  the  most 
fortunate  thing  upon  earth  happened.  Lord  Monford 
saw  Lady  lanthe,  and  at  once  fell  deeply  in  love  with 
her.  When  he  came  to  lay  his  proposals  before  Lord 
Leeson,  I  saw  tears  of  gratitude  in  my  husband's  eyes. 

"  '  We  are  saved,'  he  whispered  to  me  ;  '  Monford 
loves  lanthe,  and  wants  to  marry  her  before  the  season  is 
over.' 

"  I,  too,  was  thankful,  Mrs.  Rymer.  You  can  never 
understand  what  a  reprieve  it  was.  That  night,  for  the 
first  time  for  many  months,  I  slept  soundly,  without  the 
fear  of  disgrace  and  shame. 

"  On  the  day  following,  Lord  Leeson  sent  for  Lady 
lanthe  and  told  her.  You  must  understand  that  we  had 
said  nothing  to  her  of  our  troubles,  nor  does  she  know 


136  THROWN    ON   THE    WOKLD. 

them  yet.  It  seems  too  hard  to  weigh  down  a  young  life 
BO  heavily. 

"  What  was  our  grief,  our  dismay,  when  lanthe,  in  the 
most  positive  manner,  refused  to  hear  anything  of  it. 

"  '  At  least,'  said  her  father,  '  you  will  tell  us  why.' 

And  then  she  told  us  that  she  considered  herself  en- 
gaged to  Clifford  Raymond,  that  she  loved  him,  and 
would  not  consent  to  break  the  engagement. 

"  I  thought  my  husband  would  have  gone  distracted. 
He  persuaded,  implored  —  all  in  vain.  She  would  not 
hear  of  it ;  still,  by  my  advice,  he  refrained  from  telling 
her  the  state  of  our  affairs." 

"Was  it  wise,  do  you  think,  Lady  Leeson,  to  keep  it 
from  her?  " 

"  I  thought  so  then  ;  I  think  so  now.  She  is  so  proud 
that  I  believe,  knowing  how  we  are  situated  would  cause 
her  at  once  to  refuse  Lord  Monford,  and  would  make  her 
marry  Raymond.  I  shall  try  every  other  influence.  Then, 
if  nothing  avails,  I  will  appeal  to  her  to  save  us ;  but  I 
wish  to  avoid  that  extremity  if  I  can." 

"  Does  she  like  Lord  Monford?"  asked  Mrs.  Rymer, 
with  a  rush  of  warm  pity  through  her  heart. 

"  No,"  was  the  calm  reply ;  "  I  do  not  think  she  does1, 
but  that  would  not  matter.  In  affairs  of  this  kind  we 
cannot  afford  to  study  likes  and  dislikes." 

"  Yet  it  is  for  her  whole  life,  Lady  Leeson — her  whole 
life." 

"  She  will  not  be  the  first  who  has  made  a  similar 
marriage,  yet  has  been  happy  in  it,"  replied  Lady  Leeson. 
"  And  now  I  will  tell  you  Mrs.  Rymer,  what  I  mean 
by  constant  dropping  wearing  away  stone.  I  want  you 
to  talk  to  her  continually  about  the  advantages  of  marry- 
ing Lord  Monford,  whenever  you  get  an  opportunity, 
and  at  all  times  ;  then  by  degrees  1  think  she  will  be- 
come accustomed  to  it.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  137 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A   CAPTURED    SUITER. 

MRS.  RYMER  listened  in  grave  silence;  she  made  no 
reply. 

"  Well,"  asked  Lady  Leeson,  almost  impatiently,  "  what 
do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  my  best;  but  Lady  lanthe  is  proud,  she  will 
not  brook  much  interference." 

"  I  know  that ;  therefore  it  occurred  to  me  that  constant 
presence  of  some  one  who,  without  any  seeming  interfer- 
ence or  seeming  interest,  would  continually  advocate  the 
cause  of  Lord  Monford,  would  be  the  most  sensible  course 
we  could  adopt ;  that  friend  we  have  found  in  you." 

"  I  have  not  yet  seen  either  of  the  gentlemen,"  said 
Mrs.  Rymer. 

"  Yon  have  an  opportunity  to-morrow.  We  receive  a 
few  friends  in  the  evening,  and  they  are  sure,  both  of 
them,  to  be  present.  You  can  say  what  you  think  to 
Lady  lanthe  about  them,  but  mind  you  speak  in  the  right 
interest,  always  on  the  right  side,  and  then  you  will  see 
the  good  effect  of  your  influence. 

Mrs.  Rymer  still  looked  doubtful. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  she  repeated  ;  "  but  I  am  not 
very  sanguine. 

"  I  am,"  repeated  her  ladyship.  "  I  know  what  fol- 
lows when  one  constantly  hears  the  same  thing.  You 
will  keep  my  counsel?  —  please,  remember,  that  Lady 
lanthe  must  know  nothing  of  the  real  eircumsunces, 
until  we  have  tried  everything  else,  and  everything  else 
has  failed. 

Silvia  left  Lady  Leeson.  There  was  a  weight  on  her 
heart,  a  sense  of  coming  evil  and  sorrow,  that  she  could 
not  repress. 

"  It  will  not  end  well,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  No 
good  ever  came  of  forcing  a  girl's  inclination.  If  1 


138  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 

were  Lady  Leeson,  I  should  tell  her  the  truth,  and  let 
her  sacrifice  herself,  if  she  would." 

"  You  will  come  into  the  drawing-room  this  evening, 
Mrs.  Bymer,"  said  Lady  Leeson,  with  a  gracious  bow,  on 
the  morning  following. 

Lady  Ian  the  looked  up  surprised  at  her  mother's  un- 
usual kindness,  and  Silvia  felt  her  face  grow  crimson 
under  the  calm,  clear  gaze  of  those  eyes. 

Lady  Leeson  was  gifted  with  great  tact.  She  said 
nothing  to  her  daughter  as  to  dress,  toilet,  or  even  mak- 
ing her  appearance.  She  took  it  all  for  granted  in  a 
serene  queenly  kind  of  fashion,  that  nothing  disturbed. 

When  evening  came,  Silvia  fancied  herself  in  a  new 
world. 

Cleve  House  had  not  been  famous  for  the  brilliancy  of 
its  entertainments,  but  here  the  gorgeous  saloons  and 
reception  rooms  were  thrown  open  and  brilliantly  illu- 
minated. She  looked  around  on  the  splendor,  the  luxury, 
the  magnificence. 

"  Who  could  believe,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  that  a 
bankrupt  earl  lived  here  ?  " 

She  had  no  evening  dresses,  but  she  wore  one  of  black 
crape,  through  which  her  beautiful  shoulders  and  arms 
shone  like  snow-drops  ;  her  fair,  delicate  face  and  wealth 
of  fair  hair  made  her  conspicuously  beautiful.  Many 
gentlemen  thought  her  the  most  lovely  woman  in  the 
room.  Lady  lanthe  wore  a  very  beautiful  dress  of  pale 
lilac,  with  bouquets  of  lilac  fastening  the  white  clouds  of 
lace,  and  a  superb  wreath  of  the  same  sweet  flowers  on 
her  head.  Silvia  looked  anxiously  for  the  two  gentlemen. 
The  rooms  began  to  fill.  Lord  Mouford  was  the  first 
announced  ;  his  appearance  pleased  her  at  once.  He  did 
not  look  like  a  man  too  fond  of  money ;  he  had  a  strong, 
shrewd,  sensible  face — clearly  cut,  intelligent,  with  firm, 
well-closed  lips,  and  honest  eyes.  Perhaps  not  a  young 
lady's  most  romantic  ideal,  but  for  all  that,  a  thorough 
English  gentleman.  She  liked  him  at  first  sight. 

"  That  is  a  man  I  could  trust,"  she  said  to  herself. 
She  saw  him  go  to  Lady  lanthe,  who  received  him  very 
coldly,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  mind  that.  She  was 


THBOWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  139 

thinking  of  him  so  intently,  that  it  was  almost  a  shock  to 
her  to  find  his  eyes,  full  of  admiration,  fixed  upon  her. 
He  said  something  to  Lady  lanthe,  evidently  asking  who 
she  was.  Then  Lady  lanthe  rose,  and  they  crossed  the 
room  to  speak  to  her.  Lady  lanthe  introduced  them, 
and  Silvia  was  surprised  that  Lord  Monford  seemed  to 
ask  nothing  be-tter  than  to  sit  by  her  side  and  talk  to  her; 
she  never  once  remembered  that  the  delicate,  graceful 
loveliness  of  her  face  and  figure  was  sure  to  attract  all 
attention.  Lord  Monford  was  very  pleased  with  her. 
He  was  just  telling  her  some  little  anecdote  when  Mr. 
Raymond  was  announced,  and  Silvia  looked  ap  in  haste, 
her  face  full  of  eager  interest. 

"  Do  you  know  that  gentleman  ?  "  inquired  Lord  Mon- 
ford. 

"  No"  she  replied,  with  some  little  confusion.  "  Why 
do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  I  fancied  you  seemed  very  much  interested  in  him," 
he  replied.  Then  her  fair  face  flushed,  but  she  could 
not  tell  him  that  iuterest  arose  from  the  fact  that  she 
knew  they  were  rivals. 

There  was  no  coldness  on  Lady  lanthe's  face  now ;  it 
broke  into  a  thousand  gleams  of  tenderness ;  the  light 
that  carne  into  it  was  dazzling  in  its  beauty.  No  need  to 
ask  whom  Lady  lanthe  loved  best ;  there  was  not  a  tone 
of  her  voice,  not  a  look  of  her  eyes,  that  did  not  tell  the 
secret. 

Looking  at  the  two  men,  and  judging  calmly,  Silvia 
felt  that  Clifford  Raymond  was  handsomer ;  indeed,  he 
was  a  model  of  manly  beauty — few  men  surpassed  him  , 
but  his  face  had  not  the  strength,  the  sense,  the  truth  of 
his  rival's.  He  looked  like  a  man  who  could  be  easily 
led,  who  would  sacrifice  most  things  to  his  own  pleasure 
and  inclination  ;  there  was  nothing  heroic  about  him. 

"  Every  one  to  her  taste,"  said  Mrs.  Bymer;  "  but 
Mr.  Raymond  is  certainly  not  to  mine." 

Some  one  else  evidently  considered  him  perfection. 
In  his  presence,  Lady  lanthe  was  a  different  creature; 
her  very  beauty  seemed  to  take  a  new  character,  tender, 
sweet,  winsome.  More  than  once  Mrs.  Bymer  saw  Lady 
Leeson  looking  anxiously  at  her  daughter,  but  she  was 


140  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

too  diplomatic  to  interfere ;  the  less  attention  drawn  to 
them  the  better. 

The  gathering  was  a  very  brilliant  one.  Some  of  the 
most  beautiful  women  and  moat  celebrated  men  in  Lon- 
don were  there,  and  as  Mrs.  Rymer  looked  on  the  mag- 
nificence around  her,  she  could  hardly  help  thinking  all 
Lady  Leeson  had  told  her  was  a  dream.  The  interest  of 
the  evening  culminated  for  her  when  the  rival  lovers 
stood  one  on  each  side  of  Lady  lanthe's  chair.  It  must 
have  been  a  trying  position  for  Lord  Monford,  although 
he  was  too  proud  to  show  it.  He  kept  his  post,  bravely, 
despite  the  evident  disfavor  of  the  lady;  she  gave  all  her 
smiles  to  Mr.  Raymond,  all  her  darker  looks  to  him.  Un- 
voice when  she  addressed  Mr.  Raymond  took  the  sound 
of  a  delicate  silver  bell ;  to  Lord  Monford,  it  was  cold  and 
abrupt.  Silvia  admired  his  bravery  ;  lie  would  not  give 
in.  He  either  did  not  or  would  not  see  her  evident 
preference  for  his  rival.  Lady  Leeeon  had  watched  the 
scene  in  something  like  agony  for  many  minutes,  then 
she  crossed  the  room  with  an  appearance  of  the  most 
graceful  nonchalance,  and  joined  them. 

Talk  of  tact,  and  of  the  tortures  worldly  women  will 
bear  with  a  smile ;  had  her  feet  been  standing  on  red-hot 
plow-shares,  Lady  Leeson  would  have  made  no  sign. 
She  spoke  a  few  words  to  Lord  Monford,  to  her  daughter, 
then  turned  with  the  most  suave  and  sparkling  grace 
possible  to  Mr.  Raymond.  She  talked  to  him  of  Leesdale, 
of  his  parents. 

"  It  is  quite  refreshing,"  she  said,  to  see  a  well-known 
face  in  this  crowd.  Have  you  seen  the  earl  ?  He  has 
been  inquiring  for  you." 

Mr.  Raymond  regretted  that  he  had  not  seen  him  and 
so  fell  into  the  snare  eo  adroitly  laid  for  him.  "Come 
with  me,"  said  her  ladyship.  "  Lord  Leeson  positively 
wishes  to  see  you,  I  know." 

They  walked  away  together;  Mr.  Raymond  could  not 
well  refuse,  but  the  look  on  his  face  was  not  a  pleasant 
one.  Lady  Leeson  took  no  notice  of  it ;  she  talked  gayly 
and  cheerfully,  though,  if  wishes  could  have  slain  him, 
he  would  not  have  lived  long. 

They  went  into  the  blue-room,  where  Lord  Leeson  was 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  141 

talking  to  some  eminent  statesmen.  Most  probably  the 
tact  of  bis  wife  was  no  secret  to  him,  for  he  immediately 
turned  his  attention  to  Mr.  Raymond,  leaving  men  of 
great  note  and  standing,  to  devote  himself  to  his  daugh- 
ter's lover.  ; 

"  I  have  not  seen  you  for  some  dayfe,"  said  the  earl. 
"  Is  there  any  news  from  Leesdale  ?  " 

And  he  entered  into  such  a  long  conversation  with  him 
that  the  young  man  saw  there  was  no  prospect  of  release. 
Lady  Leeson  returned  to  the  drawing-room  alone,  and  a 
smile  of  most  cheerful  and  serene  content  overspread  her 
face  when  she  saw  Lord  Monford  still  by  her  daughter's 
side. 

But  Mrs.  Rymer  had  seen  enough  to  make  her  task 
seem  a  formidable  one.  There  could  be  no  longer  the 
least  mistake  about  it ;  Lady  lanthe  loved  Mr.  Raymond, 
while  to  Lord  Monford  she  was  supremely  and  superla- 
tively indifferent. 

"  How  she  is  to  be  changed  I  cannot  tell,"  said  Silvia 
to  herself.  "  I  should  not  like  to  be  the  one  to  thwart 
her  or  contradict  her.  It  seems  to  me  too  late  for  inter- 
ference. In  my  opinion,  she  does  not  now,  and  never 
will,  care  for  any  man  living  except  Clifford  Raymond." 

Lady  Leeson  managed  so  well  that,  without  seeming  in 
the  least  to  interfere,  or  without  even  seeming  aware  of 
what  she  was  doing,  she  effectually  prevented  all  further 
discourse  between  her  daughter  and  her  lover. 

"  I  wonder,"  thought  Mrs.  Rymer,  as  she  looked 
around  on  that  glowing,  brilliant  scene,  "  if  all  soceity  is 
as  hollow  as  this?  Here  we  have  jewels,  luxury,  magni- 
ficence —  aad  underneath,  bankruptcy,  torture,  and  sus- 
pence." 


142  THBOWN   ON   THE   WOKLD. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

BILVIA'S  OPINION  OF  LORD  MONFORD. 

LADT  IANTHE  HUTTON  was  proud  and  difficult  to 
please,  but  the  grace  and  sweetness,  the  goodness  and 
truth  of  her  companion  had  won  upon  her  as  nothing 
had  ever  done  before.  She  began  to  love  the  gentle, 
self-sacrificing  girl  who  was  so  anxious  to  do  her  duty, 
and  to  do  what  was  right  in  every  way.  She  talked  to 
her  familiarly,  as  she  would  have  done  to  her  own  sister; 
the  distinction  or  rank  seemed  no  longer  to  exist  between 
them.  So,  on  this  evening,  when  the  visitors  had  all 
gone,  and  Lady  Leeson,  with  a  very  dignified  air,  had 
retired  to  her  chamber,  Lady  lanthe  turned  to  her  com- 
panion. 

"  I  do  not  feel  sleepy,"  she  said,  "  and  you  look  quite 
wide  awake  —  let  us  have  a  cup  of  chocolate  in  my 
room." 

The  maid  was  summoned.  Lady  lanthe  threw  off  the 
costly  dress  and  brilliant  jewels  as  though  she  were  tired 
of  them.  Mrs.  Rymer  thought  how  beautiful  she  looked 
in  her  white  wrapper,  with  that  mass  of  fair  hair  falling 
like  a  veil  around  her. 

"  Now,  Honor,"  said  Lady  lanthe,  "  two  cups  of 
chocolate,  and  then  you  can  so ;  there  will  be  no  need 
to  wait." 

She  looked  so  beautiful — with  the  spoon  just  touching 
the  chocolate — a  smile  on  her  face1,  half-grave,  half  mis- 
chievous. 

"  Mrs.  Rymer,"  she  asked,  suddenly,  "  how  old  are 
you?"  Silvia  looked  up  in  wonder. 

"  Twenty,"  she  replied. 

'  That  is  very  young  to  be  left  a  widow  with  a  little 
child;  what  did  you  tell  me  your  name  was?  I  have 
forgoite.n." 

"  Silvia,"  she  ix  plied.     "  It  ib  .;,.  old  f,  i  !i!<>ned  name. 

"  But  a  very  pretty  one,"   said  Lady  lanthe  j  though 


THKOWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  143 

you  are  so  delicate  and  graceful,  Lilian,  Violet,  Grace,  or 
some  name  of  that  kind  would  have  suited  you  better. 
I  am  tired  of  calling  you  Mrs.  Rymer — it  does  not  seem 
natural ;  you  look  too  child  like  to  be  Mrs.  to  any  one.  I 
shall  call  you  Silvia.  May  I?" 

"  I  shall  be  very  pleased,"  said  Mrs.  Rymer,  with  a 
blush, 

"  Well,  then,  tell  me,  Silvia,  how  have  you  enjoyed 
this  evening  ? " 

Her  heart  beat,  for  she  saw  what  lay  before  her,  and 
she  did  not  half  like  the  duty  that  had  been  imposed 
upon  her. 

"  I  have  enjoyed  it  very  much,"  she  replied ;  "  and, 
La<ty  lanthe,  as  you  are  so  kind  to  me,  let  me  tell  you 
how  very  much  I  admire  a  gentleman  who  certainly  ad- 
mires you." 

Her  whole  face  lighted  with  pleasure,  her  eyes  bright- 
ened, her  lips  wore  a  soft,  luminous  smile. 

"  I  thought  you  would — every  one  says  so.  He  is  so 
handsome, — there  is  no  one  like  him." 

"  I  did  not  think  him  handsome,"  she  replied ;  "  but 
his  face  struck  me  as  being  very  inteligent  and  clever, 
honest,  and  true. " 

Lady  lanthe  looked  at  her  with  an  amused  smile. 

"  You  are  the  only  person  in  the  world  who  does  not 
think  Mr.Raymond  handsome." 

"  Mi4.  Raymond !  "  repeated  Silvia ;  "  I  was  not  think- 
ing of  him.  I  meant  Lord  Monford." 

The  whole  expression  of  the  beautiful  face  before  her 
changed. 

"  Lord  Monford — I  never  thought  of  him  at  all,"  she 
said,  slowly. 

"  I  must  be  true  to  my  colors,"  thought  Silvia. 
"I   admired   him    very   much,  Lady  lanthe;   I  saw  so 
much  that  was  sensible  and  good  about  him." 

"  Yery  possibly.  I  rather  admired  him  I  think,  be- 
fore he  annoyed  me." 

"  Did  he  ever  annoy  you  ?  "  asked  Silvia,  gravely.  "  I 
am  rather  surprised  at  that.  I  thought  him  a  true  gentle- 
man." 

"  So  he  is,  in  that  sense  of  the  word.  Perhaps  '  annoy  ' 


144  THROWN    ON   THE    WOBLD. 

is  too  strong  an  expression.     I  mean,  thait  quite  uncon- 
sciously to  himself  he  gave  me  some  little  trouble." 

"  He  looks  as  though  he  would  save  you  from  all  the 
trouble  in  the  world,  if  he  could,"  said  Silvia. 

"  "We  will  not  discuss  him.  He  is  very  worthy  and 
good,  but  he  does  not  interest  me.  Now,  Mr.  Raymond 
is  handsome ;  I  think  he  has  the  most  picturesque  face  I 
ever  saw.  I  have  know  him  a  long  time." 

And  into  her  beautiful  eyes  came  an  expression  that 
seemed  to  say : 

"  Do  talk  to  me  about  him ;  my  heart  hungers  to  hear 
his  name." 

"  "We  were  children  together,"  she  continued.  "  The 
Raymonds  are  near  neighbors  of  ours,  at  Leesdale." 

"  He  is  handsome,"  said  Silvia;  "  but  his  face  docs  not 
look  to  me  so  trustworthy  or  so  good  as  Lord  Mon  ford's." 

Lady  lauthe  became  quite  animated  in  the  discussion, 
and  all  the  time  she  talked  her  slender  fingers  clasped 
the  golden  chain. 

"We  are  such  old  friends,"  she  continued,  after  a 
pause,  "  and  I  think  it  is  so  natural  to  feel  a  warm  inter- 
est in  old  friends." 

"  You  have  not  known  Lord  Monford  long?  "  asked 
Silvia. 

"  I  never  met  him  until  this  season ;  he  is  a  friend  of 
papa's,  not  of  mine." 

"  Poor  unconscious  child  !  "  thought  Silvia :  "  how 
little  she  knows." 

Lady  lanthe  looked  up  with  a  smile  on  her  beautiful 
face. 

"  Not  only  is  he  a  friend  of  my  father's,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  but  I  have  always  classed  him  with  my  father, 
either  he  must  be  very  old,  or  I  am  impertinently 
young.  Which  is  it,  Silvia.'' 

Lord  Monford  does  not  look  forty,"  she  said. 

"  Forty !  repeated  the  beautiful  lips,  in  delicate 
scorn.  "  Why,  that  is  not  only  old,  but  ancient,  Silvia." 

"  It  is  generally  considered  the  prime  of  life,"  and 
then  Lady  lanthe  laughed  heartily. 

"  I  could  almost  fancy  my  lord  had  been  bribing  you," 


THEOWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  145 

she  said,  "  but  that  you  are  too  true ;  IIP  could  not  have 
a  warmer  advocate." 

"  I  do  certainly  like  him,"  said  Mrs.  Rymer,  "  and  I 
have  a  fashion  of  saying  what  I  think." 

"  But  you  do  not  like  him  better  than  Mr.  Raymond, 
do  you  ?  " 

"  If  I  am  to  speak  honestly,  yes,  I  do." 

Lady  lanthe  looked  disappointed. 

"  Ah  !  that  is  because  you  do  not  know  him.  If  you 
knew  Mr.  Raymond,  you  would  see  that  there  could  be 
no  choice." 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  then  she  continued : 

"  A  good  opinion  is  always  worth  having.  Will  you 
tell  me,  Silvia,  why  you,  a  stranger,  who  could  have  no 

Sssible  interest  in  either,  at  first  sight,  preferred  Lord 
onford  to  Mr.  Raymond  ?  " 

Silvia  looked  slightly  distressed. 

"  I  would  far  rather  not  answer  you,"  she  said. 

"  And  I  would  far  rather  know,"    replied  Lady  lanthe. 

"  It  struck  me,"  said  Silvia,  "  that  Lord  Monford  had 
the  face  of  a  man  who  could  be  relied  upon  in  any  emer- 
gency— who  would  be  calm,  steady,  and  true.  Mr.  Ray- 
mond looks  rather  as  though  he  would  be  frightened  at 
an  emergency,  and  get  out  of  it,  if  he  could." 

"  But  that  would  be  very  unmanly,"  she  said. 

"  Yes;  I  cannot  help  telling  you  what  struck  me  with 
both,  but  I  may  not  be  right." 

"  No,"  said  Lady  lanthe,  warmly ;  "  I  do  not  think 
you  are.  I  do  not  like  this  chocolate,  it  is  not  nice.  I 
think  I  am  tired,  and  will  say  good-night,  Silvia." 

And  Silvia  knew  by  the  sound  of  her  voice  that  she 
was  not  only  unhappy,  but  greatly  perplexed. 


146  THBOWN   ON    THE    WOKLD. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

AN   OMINOUS   DREAM. 

A  MONTH  had  passed  away,  and  Silvia  bad  most  care- 
fully kept  her  promise ;  at  every  opportunity,  and  in 
every  possible  way  she  had  spoken  of  Lord  Monford. 
The  result  was  that  Lady  lanthe  had  ceased  to  dislike 
him,  she  even  joined  in  praising  him,  and  spoke  well  of 
him ;  but  as  for  love,  she  was  further  from  it  than  ever. 
Silvia  saw  that  plainly  ;  she  saw  something  else  too — that 
not  all  the  influence  ever  brought  to  bear  upon  her  would 
induce  her  to  give  up  Clifford  Raymond. 

Not  that  she  spoke  often  of  him — it  would  have  been 
a  far  more  favorable  symptom  if  she  had  done  so ;  but 
that  it  was  easy  to  see  she  had  some  deep,  happy  memory 
ever  brooding  in  her  heart — a  something  that  seemed  to 
keep  her  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  world — to  make  her 
quite  indifferent  to  it ;  and  this  something  could  only 
be  love.  Silvia  never  flattered.  Lady  Leeson  trusted 
her  implicitly  :  and  so  upright,  so  honest  was  she,  so 
entirely  truthful  and  conscientious,  that  Lady  lanthe 
trusted  her  also,  and  she  wronged  neither.  Time,  aa 
it  passed,  brought  no  change,  until  one  day  the  countess, 
with  distress  on  her  face,  asked  Silvia  to  come  to  her 
room  again. 

"  We  shall  grow  quite  accustomed  to  these  solemn 
conferences,"  said  her  ladyship,  with  a  weary  smile. 
"  This  makes  the  third.  Oh,  Mrs.  Rymer,  what  a  coin- 
fort  it  is,  what  a  blessing  to  be  able  to  close  that  door  and 
let  my  mask  fall  —  not  to  be  obliged  to  pretend  any 
longer  that  I  am  happy,  prosperous,  or  quite  at  ease!  " 

And  the  weary  woman  of  the  world  flung  herself  into 
the  depths  of  a  luxurious  chair  with  a  sigh  that  would 
have  moved  the  coldest  heart. 

"  I  am  so  tired,"  she  said,  "  Oh,  so  tired  of  acting  a 
part.  It  would  be  a  positive  relief  to  me  if  I  might  say 
to  every  one,  *  We  are  ruined  beyond  redemption  ;  there 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  147 

is  no  need  for  any  further  concealment.  We  are  ruined  ; 
say  what  you  like  about  us.'  Oh,  the  luxury  of  saying 
that — of  feeling  that  there  is  no  more  need  of  conceal- 
ment. But  it  will  never  be,  it  can  never  be ;  we  must 
keep  up  appearances  till  we  die." 

"  It  is  hard,"  said  Silvia,  with  true  deep  sympathy. 

"  Here  is  the  worst  of  it,"  continued  the  countess; 
"  if  that  tiresome  child  would  but  marry  Lord  Monford 
all  would  go  well ;  if  she  will  not,  another  few  months 
will  see  us  ruined — completely  ruined.  We  shall  have 
to  leave  England,  and  hide  ourselves  in  some  wretched 
little  place  abroad.  How  shall  we  bear  it  ?  " 

w  It  may  nc$  come  to  that,"  said  Silvia. 

"  It  will — it  is  coming.  I  told  you  how  delighted  we 
were  when  Lord  Monford  laid  his  proposals  before  us. 
Did  I  teJl  you  that  my  husband  did  not  dare  to  tell  him 
how  scornfully  they  were  rejected  ?  On  the  contrary,  he 
said  something  to  him  about  there  being  every  ground 
for  hope,  but  praying  him  to  give  lanthe  more  time,  and 
to  let  the  matter  stand  over.  That  is  two  months  since. 
This  morning  he  has  been  to  my  husband  again,  and 
has  asked  plainly  if  we  have  any  reason  to  think  she  is 
attached  to  Mr.  Raymond  ;  if  so,  he  says  he  will  at  once 
withdraw  all  pretentious  to  her  hand.  Of  course,  Lord 
Leeson  said  no  ;  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  that  they  had  been 
children  together,  and  were  attached  to  each  other  in  a 
friendly  way,  nothing  more.  Lord  Monford  expressed 
himself  quite  satisfied,  but  asked  permission  to  see  lauthe 
himself,  and  lay  his  offer  before  her. 

"  My  lord  could  not  refuse  ;  he  appointed  Saturday, 
putting  it  off  as  long  as  he  could,  in  order  that  he  might 
have  time  to  reason.  If  she  persists  in  refusing  we  are 
lost.  Oh,  Mrs.  Eyrner,  help  me  to  think  what  I  can  do 
to  make  her  consent." 

Tears  rose  to  Silvia's  eyes ;  she  felt  grieved  for  tiie 
unhappy  mother,  and  still  more  grieved  for  the  daughter. 
There  was  a  foreboding  on  her  too  that  the  worst  had  not 
been  realized. 

"  What  do  you  advise  ?  "  asked  the  countess.  "  You 
have  done  your  best,  as  I  have  both  seen  and  heard. 


148  THROWN    ON    THE    WORU>. 

Do  you  think  she  cares  any  more  about  Lord  Monford 
than  she  did  ?  " 

"  I  will  answer  you  quite  truthfully,"  replied  Silvia. 
"  I  think  she  likes  him  in  a  friendly  kind  of  way,  but 
she  is  as  far  as  ever  from  loving  him." 

"  Do  you  think  she  really  loves  the  other  one?  " 

"  Yes,  she  does  indeed ;  and  if  I  can  judge  her  rightly, 
Bhe  will  never  care  for  any  one  else  while  she  lives." 

"  What  shall  I  do?"  cried  Lady  Leeson,  despairingly. 

"  The  only  plan  that  I  can  suggest  is  to  tell  her  the 
truth;  she  will  listen  to  it.  She  is  naturally  very  noble, 
and  would  do  anything,  I  am  sure,  to  help  you.  Tell 
her  the  whole  truth,  and  let  her  decide." 

"  It  will  be  such  a  shock  to  her,"  said  Lady  Leeson  ; 
"  I  can  hardly  endure  to  think  of  it.  She  has  never 
had  the  faintest  idea  of  it ;  she  has  been  accustomed  to 
luxury  all  her  life,  and  I  shrink  from  telling  her." 

"  She  must  know  it ;  there  is  no  alternative.  You 
had  better  show  her  what  depends  upon  her,  arid  then 
she  can  decide.  Lady  Leeson,  will  you  pardon  me  if  J 
say  something  else  ? " 

"  Say  what  you  will ;  I  am  only  too  pleased  to  talk 
to  you,"  said  the  countess,  sadly. 

Silvia's  face  flushed  with  the  earnestness  of  her  words. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  that  you  quite  misjudge  Lord 
Monford.  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  would  never  bring 
such  entire  ruin  upon  you  for  the  sake  of  a  little  extra 
money.  Instead  of  deceiving  him  with  false  hopes,  tell 
him  the  truth,  and  trust  to  his  mercy." 

Lady  Leeson  laughed  a  bitter,  satirical  laugh  that  was 
not  pleasant  to  hear. 

"  You  do  not  understand  men  of  the  world,"  she  said. 
"  Lord  Monford  wouM  simply  shrug  his  shoulders  if 
such  a  thing  were  mentioned  to  him,  and  say  it  wag  a 
matter  in  which  he  could  not  interfere,  as  it  was  quite  in 
the  hands  of  hi*  lawyers." 

"  I  do  not  think  it,"  said  Silvia,  earnestly.  "  I  be- 
lieve in  faces,  and  his  is  so  good,  so  true." 

"  You  are  romantic,  Mrs.  Rymer.  Between  a  man's 
face  and  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  there  is  no  connec- 
tion at  all.  Lord  Monford  is  neither  better  nor  worse 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  149 

than  his  neighbors,  but  we  have  no  right  to  expect  him 
to  be  more  generous." 

"  I  feel  convinced  that  he  would  be  so,  if  you  would 
but  try  him,"  persisted  Silvia ;  but  Lady  Leeson  only 
looked  graver  for  her  words. 

"  You  must  see,"  she  said,  at  length,  "  that  if  Lady 
[anthe  refuses  him  as  I  begin  to  fear  she  will,  after 
that  it  would  be  impossible  for  the  Earl  of  Leeson  to 
whine  out  for  mercy.  If  she  could  but  be  brought  to 
accept  him,  all  would  be  well." 

"Ask  her,"  said  Silvia;  and  Lady  Leeson  looked  up 
with  a  smile. 

"  That  is  the  most  sensible  thing  you  have  said  yet, 
I  will  ask  her  at  once.  Go  to  her,  Mrs.  Ryrner ;  tell 
her  to  corns  and  speak  to  me.  Stop,"  added  the  conn- 
teas.  "  I  think  you  had  better  stay  with  us.  Lady  lanthe 
i*  fonl  of  you,  and  you  have  some  influence  over  her. 
Will  you  stay  with  m  while  I  talk  to  her? " 

"  If  you  think  that  I  should  be  useful,  and  she  would 
not  resent  it,  I  will  do  anything  I  can,  Lady  Leeson." 

She  found  Lady  lanthe  among  the  flowers.  She  look- 
ed up,  with  a  bright  smile  on  her  face. 

"  How  earnest  you  look,  Silvia.  I  was  just  thinking 
of  my  dream.  D}  dreams  ever  come  true,  or,  as  the  old 
women  say,  do  they  go  by  contrary  ?  " 

Sho  stood  caressing  with  her  white  fingers  some  rich 
crirmon  flowers  as  she  spoke. 

"  What  did  you  dream  ?  "  asked  Silvia,  quite  willing  to 
delay  her  m333age  a  few  minutes. 

"  It  is  almost  too  foolish  to  he  told.  I  dreamed  that  I 
va?  married — naver  mind  to  whom — and  I  stood  turning 
.ay  wedding-ring  round  on  my  finger." 

"  There  is  nothing  very  wonderful  in  that,  Lady  lanthe. 
Most  probably  it  will  come  true  some  time  or  other." 

"  But  you  have  not  heard  the  strangest  part  of  my 
story,  or  rather,  my  dream.  As  I  was  looking  at  my 
ring,  suddenly  it  changed  into  a  small,  living  serpent, 
with  bright  eyes  and  a  forked  tongue,  and  it  sprung  at 
me." 

"  That  was  not  so  pleasant ;  but,  dearest  Lady  lanthe, 
it  was  only  a  dream." 


160  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

"  So  I  kept  saying  to  myself.  Yet  it  was  not  a  nice 
onc — it  made  me  nervous;  but  I  have  been  comforting 
myself  by  thinking  that  the  ring  I  shall  wear  will  be  far 
more  likely  to  turn  into  a  beautiful  white  dove,  and 
caress  me." 

She  bent  over  the  flowers  and  touched  them  with  her 
sweet  lips.  Then  Silvia  said  to  her  : 

"  Lady  Leeson  wishes  to  see  you ;  she  is  in  her  own 
room,  and  would  like  to  see  you  there.** 

"  I  will  go  at  once,"  said  Lady  lanthe ;  "  it  is  not 
often  that  mamma  sends  so  hurriedly  for  me." 


CHAPTER  XXXIY. 

JLN    EMPHATIC    REFUSAL. 

LADY  LEESON  did  not  look  as  though  the  task  before 
her  were  a  very  easy  one.  When  her  daughter  entered 
the  room  she  went  up  to  her. 

"  lanthe,"  she  said,  "  I  wish  to  see  you  particularly ; 
"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

"  You  forget,  mamma,  that  we  are  not  alone,"  replied 
the  young  girl,  looking  at  Silvia. 

"  I  have  asked  Mrs.  Rymer  to  stay;  she  is  a  good 
friend  of  yours,  and  will  perhaps  help  you  with  a  little 
counsel." 

Lady  lanthe  was  most  warmly  attached  to  the  gentle, 
beautiful  girl,  whose  sad  face  and  sweet  voice  had  charm- 
ed her,  but  to  one  so  proud  as  herself,  there  was  some- 
thing not  altogether  pleasing  in  her  mother's  words.  She 
did  not  quite  admire  being  talked  to  before  one  who, 
until  lately,  had  been  a  stranger.  She  made  no  remark, 
but  raised  her  eyebrows,  and  the  countess  understood  per- 
fectly what  she  meant.  Still,  Lady  Leeson  considered 
that  Mrs.  Rymer  might  prove  a  mest  useful  auxiliary  in 
the  struggle  that  must  ensue. 

"I  have  sent  for  you,  lanthe,"  began  the  countess, 
uneasily,  "  because  I  feel  a  sure  hope  that  the  warmest 
and  dearest  hope  of  my  life  is  about  to  be  gratified." 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  15V 

i 

"What  hope  is  it,  mamma  ?"  asked  her  daughter, 
calmly. 

"  The  hope  of  seeing  you  Lord  Monford's  wife.  How 
I  have  longed  for  it,  you,  lanthe,  will  never  know." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it,  mamma." 

"  Why,  my  dear  ?— why  be  sorry  for  an  idea  that  gives 
both  your  father  and  myself  more  comfort  than  any  other 
idea  could  ? " 

"  Because  it  is  as  impossible  for  me  to  marry  Lord 
Monford  as  it  would  be  for  yourself  to  do  so,"  replied 
Lady  lanthe. 

The  countess  raised  her  eyes  in  most  pious  horror. 

"  My  dearest  lanthe,  that  is  not  a  nice  way  to  speak — 
it  is  not,  indeed.  You  forget,  my  love,  that  I  am  a  mar- 
ried lady.  If  I  were  not,  and  1  were  young  enough  to 
be  honored  by  Lord  Monford's  choice,  all  I  can  say  is, 
I  should  accept  him." 

Lady  lanthe  laughed,  and  the  sound,  so  like  a  chime 
of  silver  bells,  gladdened  Silvia's  heart.  There  could 
not  be  anything  very  grievous  if  the  young  girl  could 
laugh  so  gladly. 

"  It  is  no  laughing  matter,  lanthe,"  said  the  countess 
gravely.  "  Listen.  Lord  Monford  has  been  with  your 
father,  and  has  renewed  his  proposals  for  your  hand." 

"  I  hope  papa  has  refused  them,"  said  Lady  lanthe. 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  has,  I  believe,  given  his  lord- 
ship some  little  reason  for  hope." 

"  Why  has  he  done  so?  "  she  asked,  proudly,  "  when 
he  knows  that  I  have  once  said  :  '  No  '  ?  " 

"  You  ask  a  pertinent  question,  my  dear,  one  bearing 
upon  the  very  heart  of  the  matter.  Your  father  did  not 
refuse  because  it  is  his  dearest  wish,  as  it  is  mine,  that 
you  should  marry  Lord  Monford.  Our  dearest  wish,  and 
we  feel  sure  that  you,  our  only  daughter,  will  not  refuse 
to  make  us  happy." 

The  beautiful  face  brightened,  and  the  bright  eyes 
grew  dim  with  tears. 

"  I  would  do  anything  to  please  you,  mamma — anj 
thing  but  this." 

"  Anything  except  the  only  thing  we  have  ever  asked 
from  you,"  said  the  countess,  coldly ;  "  the  usual  way 


152  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 

with  girls.  They  are  all  sentiment,  ready  to  make  any 
sacrifice,  but  the  first  favor  asked  from  them  is  invari- 
ably refused." 

Lady  lanthe  looked  imploringly  at  her  mother. 

"  It  is  not  so  with  me,  mamma ;  you  know  it  is  not." 

"  Then,  my  dearest  child,  listen  to  reason.  You  are 
our  only  child.  You  know  how  we  have  loved  you,  how 
we  have  always  striven  to  please  you,  how  every  wish  of 
your  heart  was  gratified,  every  least  desire  fulfilled.  We 
have  never  thwarted  you,  never  denied  you  anything — 
we  have  given  you  love,  care,  affection,  and  devotion. 
You  have  been  our  pride  and  joy.  Is  it  not  so?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma,"  she  replied. 

"  And  now,"  continued  the  countess,  "  for  the  first 
time,  we  come  to  ask  a  favor  from  you,  to  ask  from  your 
hands  that  which  will  make  us  happy — your  marriage 
with  Lord  Monford.  He  is  all  that  any  one  can  wish  ;  I 
ask  no  fairer  fate  from  Heaven  for  you,  my  dearest,  than 
to  see  you  his  wife." 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  the  girl,  earnestly,  "  I  do  not 
love  him — I  do  not,  indeed." 

"  That  would  come,  lanthe ;  no  girl  could  see  such 
excellence  as  his,  and  not  learn  to  love  him  in  time." 

"  But  I  should  want  some  little  love  to  begin  with, 
mamma,"  said  the  girl,  sadly. 

"  My  dear  lanthe,  I  wish  that  I  could  describe  to  you 
all  the  nonsense  that  in  this  world  passes  by  the  name  of 
love.  Which  is  best  and  most  dutiful  —  to  yield  to  a  set 
of  morbid  fancies,  or  to  make  two  devoted  parents 
happy  ? » 

"  Marriage  is  not  like  anything  else,"  said  Lady 
lanthe.  "  Once  contracted,  there  is  no  breaking  the 
bond;  it  must  last  for  life,  and  if  the  whole  life  should 
be  unhappy — oh,  mamma ! 


"  But  tnere  would  be  no  need  of  unhappiness  with 
Lord  Monford,"  persisted  the  countess.  "If  he  were 
not  all  that  he  should  be,  I,  for  one,  should  object 
strongly;  he  is  a  gentleman,  well-born,  rich,  of  stainless 
character  and  high  repute.  What  more  do  you  want, 
lanthe  I"  J 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  153 

"  Some  ono  to  love,"  said  the  girl.  "  I  do  not  deny 
one  of  his  excellent  qualities,  but  I  do  not  love  him." 

"  I  detest  the  very  word,"  cried  the  countess.  "  If 
you  do  not  love  him,  Tanthe,  it  is  because  you  will  not. 
I  know  no  one  more  worthy  of  your  love." 

Then  Lady  lanthe  rose,  and  went  over  to  her  mother. 
She  knelt  down  by  her  side,  and  placed  her  hands  caress- 
ingly on  the  countess'  arm. 

"  Mamma,  dear,"  she  said,  "  you  forget  Clifford." 

"  Forget  whom  ?  "  cried  Lady  Leeson. 

"  You  forget  Clifford,  my  dear  playfellow,  when  I 
was  a  child,  my  dear  lover  ever  since  I  have  been  old 
enough  to  know  what  love  means." 

Despite  her  self-command  the  face  of  the  brilliant 
countess  grew  white  with  anger. 

"  I  do  not  forget  Mr.  Raymond,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I 
am  too  sure  of  my  daughter's  affection  to  think  she 
would  let  a  person  of  Mr.  Raymond's  position  come  be- 
tween her  parents  and  herself." 

"  Yon  always  liked  him,  mamma,"  pleaded  the  girl. 

"  When  he  kept  his  place,  my  dear,  as  the  son  of  a 
worthy  neighbor,  holding  a  very  inferior  position,  people 
whom  we  may  one  day  assist.  I  need  not  say  that  I  ever 
dreamed  of  him  as  a  suitable  lover  for  the  Earl  of 
Leeson's  daughter." 

"  But  the  earl's  daughter  has  learned  to  think  of  him 
in  that  light,  mamma." 

"  Then  she  must  hasten  to  unlearn  it,"  said  the  coun- 
tess. "  lanthe,  my  dearest,  be  guided  by  me  in  this  case 
— you  will  never  repent  it.  See,  all  my  life  I  have  never 
asked  a  favor  from  you.  I  ask  one  now.  For  my  sake, 
and  your  father's  give  up  this  absurd  idea  about  Mr. 
Raymond,  and,  to  please  us,  consent  to  marry  Lord 
Monford — to  please  us." 

Lady  lanthe  turned  away  her  face,  but  not  before 
Silvia  had  seen  the  distress  and  anguish  upon  it. 

"  There  is  no  prayer  I  will  not  make  to  you.  Oh ! 
lanthe,  do  not  grieve  me  by  a  refusal." 

Lady  Leeson's  hands  trembled  ;  her  face  was  strangely 
moved  in  its  earnest,  pathetic  pleading. 


154  THROWN  ON  TBE  WORLD. 

"  No  child,"  she  continued,  "  could  refuse  a  mother's 
prayer ;  and,  lantlie,  I  pray  to  you." 

Lady  lanHie  clasped  her  white  hands. 

"  You  make  it  terribly  hard  for  me— so  terribly  hard  ! 
Do  yon  not  see  that  I  am  quite  willing  to  obey  you,  but 
that  I  cannot,  for  I  love  Clifford  Raymond,  and  I  am 
engaged  to  him." 

A  little  cry  of  dismay  came  from  the  white  lips  of 
Lady  Leeson. 

"  Engaged  to  him !  But,  lanthe,  that  is  but  childish 
nonsense." 

"  Nay,  mamma,"  said  the  girl,  earnestly,  "  it  is  the 
dearest  love  of  my  heart — I  cannot  give  it  up.  I  would 
do  anything  to  please  you.  This  would  not  be  just,  for 
it  would  make  Clifford  suffer  even  more  than  me." 

"  He  might  be  managed,"  interrupted  Lady  Leeson, 
eagerly. 

But  she  replied : 

"  No.     I  love  him,  and  I  cannot  give  him  up." 

"  Mrs.  Rymer,"  said  the  countess,  despairingly,  "  can 
you  help  me  to  bring  this  obstinate,  willful  girl  to 
reason  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Rymer  will  not  attempt  it,"  said  Lady  lanthe. 
"  No  good  or  sensible  person  would  try  to  make  any  girl 
marry  one  man  while  she  loves  another.  My  answer  to 
Lord  Monford  is  a  firm  and  decided  refusal,  mamma ;  I 
have  no  other  to  make." 

"  That  answer  I  must  take  to  your  father,  I  suppose, 
lanthe?  " 

"  If  you  please,  mamma.  I  had  hoped  that  his  lord- 
ship would  have  taken  my  first  refusal ;  as  he  has  not  had 
the  sense  to  do  so,  pray  ask  him,  from  me,  to  consider 
this  as  final." 

'  You  will  break  my  heart,"  said  Lady  Leeson. 

"  I  do  not  think  so,  mamma,  and  I  am  sorry  to  dis- 
please you  ;  but  in  this  matter  of  love  and  marriage  I 
must  claim  the  right  to  please  myself." 

And  with  those  words  Lady  lanthe  swept  out  of  the 
room,  leaving  Lady  Leeson  and  Mrs.  Rymer  together. 


THBOWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  155 


CHAPTER  XXXY. 

"IT    IS    TOO    LATE    NO  W." 

"  WHAT  am  I  to  do  ?  "  asked  Lady  Leeson,  turning 
with  a  look  of  surprise  to  Mrs.  Rymer.  "  She  will  never 
listen  to  reason.  What  will  Lord  Leeson  say  ?  " 

"There  remains  the  alternative  I  suggested,"  said  Mrs. 
Rymer.  "  Tell  Lady  lanthe  the  whole  affair,  and  trust 
to  her." 

"  It  will  be  useless,  I  feel  sure  beforehand,"  said  the 
countess;  "  but  at  least,  I  will  try.  Oh!  Mrs.  Rymer, 
how  full  of  trouble  is  life  !  " 

As  though  any  one  living  could  possibly  know  it  better 
than  herself,  Silvia  almost  wondered.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  this  trouble  of  bankruptcy  of  money  was  as  nothing 
compared  to  the  tempest  of  grief  that  had  fallen  over 
herself. 

I  will  go  to  her  to-night,"  said  Lady  Leeson,  suddenly, 
"  and  I  will  tell  her  all." 

Lady  lanthe  did  not  go  down  to  dinner,  and  the 
countess  looked  very  unhappy.  It  was  such  a  desperate 
venture,  and  so  much  was  at  stake,  that  she  was  nervous 
and  frightened  ;  her  only  consolation  seemed  in  talking  to 
Silvia  about  it. 

"  A  few  more  years  —  only  a  few  more  years,"  she 
said,  "  and  all  would  be  well.  Lord  Leeson  says  himself, 
that  five  years'  careful  nursing  would  bring  everything 
right.  It  seems  too  hard  that  our  only  child  should  stand 
between  us  and  all  comforts." 

Silvia  could  not  encourage  her  with  hopeful  words. 

"  At  the  worst,"  she  said,  "  I  have  faith  in  Lord  Mon- 
ford ;  he  will  not  let  it  come  to  worse,  I  am  quite  sure." 

But  the  countess  had  no  faith  in  that  belief. 

"  When  a  man's  vanity  has  just  been  piqued  by  a 
scornful  rejection  of  his  love,  it  would  be  useless  to  ap- 
peal to  his  compassion,"  she  said. 

It  was  late  before  Lady  Leeson  fulfilled  all  her  en- 
gagements, and  was  ready  to  go  to  her  daughter's  room. 


156  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

Silvia  met  her  in  the  long  corridor,  and  it  struck  her  that 
the  picture  she  represented  was  not  unlike  that  of  Lady 
Macbeth.  The  countess  wore  a  long,  white  wrapper,  and 
she  carried  a  lighted  a  taper  a  her  hand  ;  her  face  was  pale 
with  watching,  great  dark  circles,  were  round  her  eyes. 

She  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Rymer. 

"  I  am  going  on  a  difficult  errand,"  she  said,  "  to  try 
to  make  a  hard  heart  soft." 

And  with  those  words  she  passed  on,  and  Silvia  enter- 
ed her  room.  But  she  could  not  sleep;  she  could  think 
of  nothing  but  the  scene  passing  in  the  chamber.  It  was 
well  for  her  that  she  was  not  present,  for  Lady  lanthe's 
distress  was  pitiable. 

The  countess  found  her  reading  and  remonstrated  with 
her  on  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

"  You  will  make  your  eyes  dim,  lanthe,"  she  said, 
"  and  loose  all  your  beautiful  bloom  by  reading  at  night; 
never  do  that,  dear." 

"1  did  not  care  to  lie  awake  thinking,"  said  the  girl ; 
"  my  thoughts  are  not  happy  ones,  mamma." 

"  Nor  are  mine,"  said  the  countess.  Then  she  placed 
the  lamp  upon  the  table,  and  knelt  down  by  her  daugh- 
ter's side.  Lady  lanthe  would  have  risen  ;  she  cried  out 
in  distress  at  her  mother's  attitude. 

"  Not  to  me,  mamma  —  I  pray  yon  do  not  kneel  to 
me,"  she  said.  It  was  perhaps  the  first  time  in  her  stately 
life  that  the  countess  had  ever  given  way,  but  she  did 

five  way  now;  she  laid  her  head  upon  her  daughter's 
nees,  and  wept  aloud. 

"  Mamma  I  "  she  cried,  anxiously,  "  what  is  the  matter? 
I  never  saw  you  like  this  before.  What  has  gone  \vronir '' 
You  terrify  me." 

But  Lady  Leeson  made  no  reply,  she  only  sobbed  the 
louder ;  and  lanthe's  face  grew  white  with  terror  as  she 
looked  at  her. 

"  Mamma,"  she  saicl.  m  a  low  voice,  V  if  you  knew 
how  you  were  alarming  me  you  would  speak ;  is  there 
anything  wrong?" 

4  Yes,  there  is  so  much  wrong,"  sobbed  Lady  Leeejon, 
"  that  only  you  can  set  right.  My  darling,  our  comfort, 
our  happiness,  our  well-being.  I  may  say  our  lives,  aro  in 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  157 

your  hands,  and  I,  your  own  mother,  kneel  here  at  your 
feet  to  ask  you  to  have  pity  upon  us." 

Lady  lanthe  bent  down,  and  with  her  cold  lips  touched 
her  mother's  face. 

"  Do  not  cry  so,  mamma.  I  will  do  anything  I  can ; 
is  it,  is  it  about  that  marriage  ?  " 

Then  Lady  Leeson  sobbed  out  the  whole  pitiful  story. 

"  No  one  can  help  us  but  you,  lanthe,"  she  said,  de- 
spairingly. "  If  you  will  marry  Lord  Monford,  all  will 
be  well,  and  we  need  not  fear;  you  will  have  rescued  us 
from  privation,  bankruptcy — horrors  that  I  dare  not  face 
— horrors,  that  will  kill  me." 

No  word  came  from  the  white  lips. 

"  lanthe  !  lanthe  !  I  have  never  known  such  trouble 
as  this,  and,  my  darling,  I  cannot  bear  it;  my  life  has 
been  so  brilliant,  so  luxurious.  How  am  I  to  bear  ruin  ?  " 

"  But  is  it  certain  ?  "  asked  the  girl  with  a  long,  shud- 
dering sigh. 

"  Certain  as  that  Heaven  shines  above  us,"  said  the  un- 
happy mother. 

"  Lord  Monford  would  never  proceed  to  such  extremi- 
ties; he  does  not  seem  so  mercenary,"  said  Lady  lanthe. 

"  If  you  humiliate  his  pride,  and  wound  his  vanity,  by 
refusing  his  love,"  said  Lady  Leeson,  "  I  leave  you  to 
guess  what  measure  of  mercy  we  may  expect  from  him. 
lanthe,  there  is  no  daughter  living  who  would  hear  her 
mother  praying  for  Heaven's  sake,  and  refuse  her 
prayers." 

Her  beautiful  head  drooped,  and  a  look  of  unutterable 
despair  came  over  the  fair  young  face. 

"  If  I  had  but  known,"  she  murmured  to  herself — "  if 
I  had  but  known." 

"  It  grieves  my  very  heart,"  said  the  countess,  "  to 
urge  you  to  this  sacrifice  of  your  love,  but  Iknow  that, 
were  I  in  your  place,  I  should  not  hesitate,  lanthe ;  I 
should  sacrifice  my  own  love  and  inclinations  to  save  my 
parents.  I  should  not  hesitate  one  moment  between  the 
two,  and  yon  will  not  hesitate,  my  own  lanthe." 

The  countess  clasped  her  white  arms  round  the  beauti- 
ful figure,  she  drew  the  white  face  to  her  own,  she  kissed 
the  beautiful  lips. 


158  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  You  will  not  refuse,"  she  mnrmured.  "  You,  the 
little  child  I  nursed  in  1113-  arms,  my  darling,  whom  I 
have  loved  and  been  so  proud  of — you  will  save  us.  I 
never  doubted  that  you  would  do  it  when  you  knew  the 
truth.  I  did  not  like  telling  you,  lanthe.  You  have 
never  known  a  shadow  of  trouble,  and  I  thought  it  might 
be  averted." 

The  bright  head  was  bent  still  lower. 

"  If  I  had  but  known  before,  mamma,"  she  said.  "  If 
you  had  told  me  this  when  Lord  Monford  first  asked  me 
to  marry  him,  I  would  have  put  all  other  thoughts  away, 
all  hopes  of  happiness,  and  dreams  of  love.  /  would 
have  married  him,  and  have  saved  you." 

"  My  dearest  child,  1  knew  it.  Mrs.  Rymer  judged 
you  rightly ;  she  said  if  you  knew  all  you  would  be  guid- 
ed by  our  wishes." 

"  I  would  have  been.  Why  did  you  not  trust  me? 
it  is  too  late  now." 

Lady  Leeson  looked  up  with  a  cheerful  smile. 

"  No,  my  darling,  it  is  not  too  late,"  she  said.  Oh  !  I 
am  so  thankful — so  grateful,  lanthe;  if  I  were  to  lay  my 
life  down  for  you  it  would  not  repay  you." 

"  You  do  not  understand,"  cried  the  girl ;  "  I  say  it  is 
too  late—" 

"  And  I,"  interrupted  the  countess,  with  a  smile, 
"  say  it  is  not  too  late.  Your  father  was  very  careful — 
he  said  nothing  of  your  rejection,  so  that  it  is  not  too 
late.  Oh,  lanthe,  if  it  were — if  it  were,  I  should  kill 
myself,  I  could  not  bear  ruin." 

The  young  girl  shuddered — a  long,  terrible  shudder, 
that  seemed  to  make  her  whole  frame  tremble. 

"  Kill  yourself?"  she  repeated.  "  Oh,  mamma,  what 
a  terrible  thing  to  say!  " 

44  And  a  terrible  thing  to  do,  my  darling ;  but  death  is 
easier  for  a  proud  woman  to  bear  than  disgrace." 

Slowly  and  gravely  Lady  lanthe  repeated  the  words 
after  her : 

"  Death  is  easier  to  bear  than  disgrace  for  a  proud 
woman." 

The  words   died  away  with  a  low  moan  on  her  lips. 


THROWN    ON    THE   WORLD.  159 

Then  she  rose  suddenly,  and  with  both  hands  pushed 
back  the  hair  from  her  brow. 

"  Leave  me  now,  mamma,"  she  said  ;  "  I  cannot  bear 
any  more  ;  I  will  think — I  shall  go  mad  if  you  say  much 
more  to  me  now.  Leave  me — leave  me  for  two  days, 
and  then  I  will  tell  you — something." 

Looking  into  the  agonized  face  before  her,  the  countess 
saw  that  it  would  not  do  to  urge  the  young  girl  any 
further.  She  kissed  her,  murmuring  gentle  caressing 
words  over  her.  She  laid  her  hands  on  the  bright  hair. 

"  My  beautiful  lanthe,"  she  murmured,  "  my  dearest 
child !  " 

But  the  despair  in  the  young  face  grew  no  less. 

"  Do  leave  me,  mamma,"  she  moaned.  "  You  arG 
very  kind  ;  but  I  cannot  bear  any  more." 

"  Good  night,  then,  my  darling.  I  leave  you  a  heart 
full  of  love  and  thanks  ;  1  leave  you  undying  gratitude." 

But  Lady  lanthe  turned  away  with  a  low  moan.  The 
countess  was  not  alarmed  by  her  daughter's  depression. 

"  I  did  not  think  she  cared  so  much  about  Clifford," 
she  said ;  "  but  sometimes  those  boy  -  and  -  girl  attach- 
ments are  serious  affairs." 

The  countess  slept  better  that  night  than  she  had  done 
for  long.  True,  lanthe  seemed  dreadfully  distressed,  but 
she  would  get  over  that  in  time,  and  all  would  be  well. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

A   STARTLING    REVELATION. 

SILVIA  sat  in  her  room  wondering  and  thinking,  long- 
ing to  help  those  whom  she  knew  herself  powerless  to 
help.  She  could  not  bear  to  think  of  that  young  life, 
with  its  terrible  blight — of  the  love  that  must  bring  un- 
happiness  one  way  or  another;  she  tried  to  think  what 
she  should  have  done  in  Lady  lanthe's  place ;  if  in  the 
sunny  days  of  her  happy  love  she  could  have  given  up 
her  love — and  she  knew  that  death  would  have  seemed  a 
thousand  times  easier. 

She  was  thinking  so  deeply  that  she  did  not  hear  the 


160  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

light  steps  that  came  nearer  and  nearer  to  her  room  door ; 
not  until  the  handle  was  turned  gently  did  she  realize 
the  fact  that  any  one  was  there.  Nearly  two  o'  clock  in 
the  morning — who  could  it  be?  She  went  quickly  and 
opened  the  door.  It  was  Lady  lanthe,  who  entered 
silently,  closed  the  door,  and  turned  the  key. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  she  said,  abruptly.  "  I  could 
not  wait  until  the  morning,  for  it  seems  to  me  that  I 
am  going  mad  to-night." 

"  It  seems  to  rne,"  said  Silvia,  u  that  though  the  night 
is  warm,  you  are  shivering  with  cold.  Let  me  wrap  this 
cloak  round  you,  and  then  you  shall  talk  as  long  as  you 
will." 

She  felt  the  violent  trembling  that  seemed  to  convulse 
her  slender  frame  ;  she  saw  the  agony  in  the  white  face. 

"  Dear  Lady  lanthe,"  she  said,  clasping  the  cold  hands 
in  her  own,  "  do  not  look  so  unutterably  wretched  ;  there 
is  always  a  silver  lining  to  every  cloud.  The  night  can 
never  be  so  dark  but  that  the  dawn  comes  after  it." 

"  There  can  be  no  dawn  for  me,"  said  Lady  lanthe, 
and  the  voice  was  so  hoarse,  so  changed,  that  Silvia 
hardly  knew  it ;  no  light,  no  dawn.  I  am  lost.  In  all 
the  wide  world  that  the  sun  shines  on  there  is  no  one  else 
as  wretched  as  I  am." 

She  sat  quite  still  for  some  minutes,  with  a-  far-off, 
dreamy  look  in  her  eyes. 

"  Any  one  who  wishes  me  well,"  she  continued,  "  could 
not  do  me  a  greater  favor  than  in  giving  me  poison,  or 
throwing  me  into  the  sea." 

"  That  is  a  morbid  fancy,  Lady  lanthe.  Thousands 
Eve  with  a  heavier  burden  than  yours  to  carry,  and  yet 
they  do  not  die,  neither  do  they  wish  for  death." 

"  You  do  not  know  how  heavy  my  burden  is,"  said 
the  young  girl;  "how  should  you?  No  one  knows  it 
but  myself.  I  have  come  to  ask  you  a  question,  Silvia; 
you  will  speak  the  truth — you  always  do.  Lady  Leeson 
has  been  with  me  to-night,  and  she  has  told  me  a  strange 
tale— such  a  strange,  sad  tale.  Silvia  it  seems  almost  a 
terrible  thing  to  say,  but  I  am  not  quite  sure  if  mamma 
has  told  me  the  simple  truth,  or  if  *.he  has  been  playing 
upon  me,  she  is  so  anxious  for  this  marriage  ;  and  yet  she 


THBOWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  161 

would  not  have  wept  bitterly  as  she  did  without  some 
cause.  Silvia,  is  it  true — can  it  be  true?  " 

"  You  mean  about  Lord  Monford  and  the  money.  It 
is  I  believe,  perfectly  true.  Lady  Leeson  told  me  about 
it  some  time  since." 

"  True!  "  she  repeated.  "  Oh!  what  am  I  to  do?  — 
what  is  to  become  of  me  ?  True  !  Oh,  Silvia,  I  shall 
go  mad  !  " 

"Nay!  There  are  greater  troubles,  and  people  live 
after  them,"  said  Silvia.  "  You  have  but  to  decide 
between  love  of  your  lover  and  love  of  your  parents. 
You  have  to  choose  between  your  happiness  and  theirs, 
and  I  will  say  the  choice  is  a  hard  one — bitterly  hard." 

"  I  have  always  been  proud  of  my  name  and   race — 

Eroud  of  my  long  descent.  I  have  been  proud  of  my 
ither's  name  and  station,  of  his  position,  and  of  my 
mother's  queenship  in  the  great  world.  Ours  has  been  a 
stately  race,  Silvia,  and  it  ought  not  to  come  to  disgrace." 

"  It  could  not,"  said  Silvia ;  "  it  would  be  like  the  faL- 
ing  of  a  bright  star." 

"  It  should  not  if  I  could  avert  it,"  said  Lady  lanthe, 
despairingly.  "  Pride  of  race  is  strong  in  me  ;  but,  Silvia, 
it  is  too  late.  If  I  had  known  this  story  before,  I  would 
have  sacrificed  myself.  I  swear  that  I  would  have  fore- 
gone every  hope  of  earthly  happiness  to  have  saved  my 
race ;  but  oh,  Silvia !  how  am  I  to  tell  you?" 

"  Do  tell  me,  do  trust  me ;  I  will  do  my  best  to  help 
you.  Why  is  it  too  late  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  Clifford  Raymond's  wife!  I  married 
him  secretly,  three  months  since." 

The  words  had  a  strange,  almost  startling,  effect  in 
the  clear,  silent  night.  Silvia  heard  them  with  a  sinking 
heart,  and  Lady  lanthe  seemed  relieved  at  having  uttered 
them.  She  went  on  rapidly,  with  a  flushed  face  and 
bright  eyes. 

"  I  cannot  tell  what  made  me  do  such  a  thing.  I  can- 
not imagine  how  Clifford  ever  persuaded  me.  When 
I  come  to  think  it  over,  I  am  frightened  at  myself, 
frightened  at  what  I  have  done." 

"  It  was  wrong,"  said  Silvia,  with  a  keen  remem- 
brance of  how  bitterly  she  had  suffered  for  a  similar 


162  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

folly.    I  do  not  think  that  anything  can  excuse  or  justify 
such  a  thing." 

"  Nor  do  I ;  now,  when  I  plainly  see  the  miserable 
position  in  which  I  am  placed  I  agree  with  yon.  But, 
Silvia,  we  were  very  much  in  love ;  we  have  been  fond 
of  each  other  since  we  were  little  children.  We  were 
sorely  afraid  of  something  happening  to  part  us.  Lord 
Monford  made  me  an  offer,  and  my  parents  seemed  so 
anxious  for  me  to  accept  it  ;  while  his  father  wanted  him 
to  marry  some  cousin.  The  only  thing  we  could  think 
of,  to  save  us  both,  was  a  private  marriage.  How  foolish 
it  was,  Silvia  !  " 

"  Are  you  sure  it  was  a  proper  and  legal  marriage  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Kymer. 

"  Yes;  Clifford  took  care  of  that.  I  had  received  an 
invitation  to  spend  a  few  days  with  a  friend,  who  had  a 
country  house  at  Kew.  I  went  and  stayed  half  a  day  at 
Greenwich  ;  we  were  married  at  an  old  church  there. 
All  that  I  remember  about  it  is,  that  I  was  surrounded 
by  green  trees.  We  were  married  properly  ;  there  was 
a  license  and  a  ring  —  even  our  o\vn  names.  I  do  not 
understand  much  about  such  matters,  but  I  do  know  that 
no  marriage  could  be  more  binding  than  ours." 

"  Mr.  Raymond  would  be  sure  to  attend  to  that,"  said 
Silvia. 

"  We  parted  at  the  church  door,"  continued  Lady 
lanthe.  "  My  husband  came  back  to  London,  and  i 
returned  to  my  friends.  We  have  met  in  society  contin 
ually,  at  our  own  house,  and  elsewhere,  but  we  have 
never  had  an  opportunity  of  meeting  to  talk  over  what 
we  should  do  over  this  marriage  of  ours." 

"  Thrt  is  a  strange  story,"  interrupted  Silvia. 

"  It  was  very  foolish."  said  Lady  lanthe  ;  "  but  I  love 
my  husband,  and  I  will  not  say  that  I  regret  it." 

"  See,"  she  continued,  drawing  the  little  chain  from 
her  neck,  and  opening  the  silver  bag,  "  this  is  my  wed- 
ding ring.  I  have  never  dared  to  wear  it,  but  I  will  put 
it  on  to-night.  I  have  so  often  looked  at  yours  and  envied 
you  because  you  wore  it." 

She  little  knew  why  Silvia's  lips  quivered  as  she  smil- 
td.  She  slipped  the  golden  ring  on  the  white  finger, 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  163 

and  looked  at  it  with  a  loving  smile.     She  bent  her  head 
and  kissed  the  ring. 

"  If  I  dared  but  wear  it,"  she  said.     "  It  was  foolish 
to  put  it  on,  but  I  do  love  it  so  dearly — so  very  dearly." 

Then  a  sudden  shock  of  memory  came  over  her,  and 
she  grew  pale  as  death. 

"  I  had  forgotten  for  one  half  -  minute,"   she  said — 
"  quite  forgotten.     Oh,  Mrs.  Rymer,  what  am  I  to  do  ? '' 

"  I   dare  not   take   upon  myself  the  responsibility  o 
advising  you;  but  if  I  were  in  your  place,  Lady  lanthe, 
I  should  certainly  tell  the  truth." 

But  Lady  lanthe  was  so  deeply  engrossed  in  thought 
«he  did  not  seem  to  hear. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
LADY  IANTHE'S  FOREBODINGS. 

"  SILVIA,"  continued  Lady  lanthe,  raising  her  eyes  to 
her  young  companion's  face.  "  Silvia,  you  must  grant 
me  one  favor ;  you  must  see  my  husband  for  me." 

Silvia  shrunk  with  a  sacred  expression  on  her  beautiful 
face. 

"  I !  Oh,  Lady  lanthe  !  "  Then  she  paused  for  half 
a  minute.  "  I  will  do  anything  for  you,"  she  answered. 
"  I  will  see  him  if  you  wish." 

"  After  to-night,"  said  the  young  girl,  mamma's  sus- 
picions will  most  surely  be  aroused.  She  will  watch  me 
closely ;  she  will  not  like  me  to  leave  the  house  without 
her.  I  know  she  will  watch  the  letter-bag,  so  that  I  shall 
find  it  difficult  to  send  a  letter ;  yet  I  must  communicate 
with  him  at  once.  He  seemed  more  anxious  than  myself 
that  all  publicity  should  be  carefully  guarded  against ; 
that  all  chances  of  our  secret  being  made  known  should 
be  most  urgently  dreaded.  Indeed,"  she  continued,  with 
a  smile,  "  to  show  you  what  foolish  children  we  were,  we 
took  an  oath  of  secrecy  to  each  other,  so  that  neither  of 
us  can  break  it.  It  seems  to  me  the  time  has  come  when 
that  oath  must  be  broken." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Silvia.  "  There  is  no 
further  use  in  concealing  the  truth — it  must  be  told." 


164:  THROWN    ON    THE    M'ORLD. 

"  My  husband  must  be  told  all  that  has  passed,"  con- 
tinued Lady  lanthe  ;  "  and  wo  must  arrange  together 
what  is  to  be  done.  Oh,  Silvia,  it  will  be  a  terrible  blow 
to  my  dear  mother — a  most  terrible  blow  ! 

"  It  will  not  be  the  simple  announcement  of  the  mar- 
riage that  will  grieve  them  s<>,"  said  Lady  lanthe  ;  "it 
will  be  the  terrible  ruin  that  must  follow.  Oil,  Silvia! 
if  I  could  but  avert  it.  I  feel  now  that  I  would  give 
my  whole  life  to  help  them." 

"  We  must  hope  for  the  best,"    paid  Silvia. 

She  was  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  platitudes,  for  she 
was  quite  at  a  loss  what  to  say. 

"  You  must  go,"  continued  Lady  lanthe,  "  if  yen  will, 
Silvia,  to  my  husband's  rooms,  take  a  K-ttcr  to  him,  and 
wait  for  an  answer.  You  will  nut  mind  doing  this  for 
mjr  sake,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  was  the  earnest  reply.  "  Command  me  just  as 
you  will,  for  your  sake  I  would  do  anything  on  earth." 

"  Then  I  will  write  my  letter  now,  late  as  it  is,  before 
I  go  to  sleep;  and  in  the  morning,  before  any  arrange- 
ments can  be  made  for  the  day,  you  can  ask  Lady  Leeson 
for  permission  to  go  out;  she  will  think  it  is  for  some 
private  business  of  your  own,  and  will  not  say  one  word." 

"  I  will  do  that,"  said  Silvia ;  "  but,  Lady  lanthe,  are 
you  not  too  tired  for  writing  to-night?  " 

Lady  lanthe's  eyes  were  bright  as  day. 

"Tired,"  she  said,  with  a  low,  bitter  laugh  ;  "  I  have  a 
terrible  feeling  over  me,  Silvia,  that  I  shall  never  be  tired 
again.  1  cannot  explain  it.  A  fever  of  unrest — a  fore- 
boding— what  can  it  be?  It  seems  to  me  that  I  shall 
never  know  rest,  or  peace,  or  quiet  again.  I  have  heard 
of  some  terrible  feeling  coming  to  people  before  death ; 
have  you  ? " 

"  Do  not  say  such  terrible  things,"  said  Silvia  ;  yet,  as 
she  spoke,  a  cold  shiver  seized  her.  "  Dear  Lady  lanthe," 
she  said,  "  do  not  talk  of  death — you  are  so  young  yet, 
with  such  a  happy  life  before  you.5' 

"  I  do  not  think  so.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  in  such 
sore  straits,  nothing  but  death  can  help  me.  Look  which 
way  I  may,  there  lies  on  either  side  nothing  but  misery." 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  165 

"  You  will  not  be  miserable  with  Mr.  Raymond,"  said 
Silvia. 

"  You  will  forget  this  trouble  when  you  have  been  a 
happy  wife  for  some  time." 

Lady  lanthe's  face  took  that  sorrowful  expression  that 
was  yet  so  tender. 

"  Every  time  I  look  at  my  husband,"  she  said,  "  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  remember  that  for  his  sake  I  broke  my 
mother's  heart.  It  will  break  her  heart,  Silvia,  to  lose 
all  the  prestige  of  rank  and  position." 

"  There  will  always  be  one  source  of  comfort  for  you," 
said  Silvia  ;  "  come  what  may,  you  will  have  your  hus- 
band's love  to  depend  upon." 

"  I  shall  have  that,"  said  Lady  lanthe,  and  I  shall  have 
nothing  else.  I  shall  be  like  a  man  who  crosses  a  steep 
precipice,  beneath  which  rages  a  boiling  torrent,  and  has 
a  slender  plank  to  cross  on  ;  that  plank  is  to  me  my  hus- 
band's love.  Should  it  fail  me !  oh,  great  Heaven ! 
should  it  fail  me,  there  is  nothing  to  save  me  from  the 
dark  waters;  and  Silvia,  Silvia,  I  should  be  swept  away 
in  them.  I  can  hear  the  rush  of  the  torrent  now!  " 

Silvia  was  almost  frightened  at  the  young  girl's  agita- 
tion. 

"  You  are  sure  of  it,"  she  said  earnestly ;  "  you  must 
be  sure  of  your  husband's  love  as  you  are  of  Heaven." 

"  Of  course  I  am.  You  see  Silvia,  I  am  unnerved — 
quite  unnerved.  Why  else  should  I  doubt  him  who  has 
ever  been  so  kind,  so  loving,  so  true  to  me  ?  I  do  not 
doubt  him.  I  was  mad  when  I  said  that.  I  do  not  doubt 
him ;  it  was  only  a  cruel,  terrible  nervous  fear." 

Yet,  though  she  spoke  so  bravely,  though  it  seemed  to 
her  there  could  be  no  cause  for  fear,  Silvia  could  not 
help  thinking  that  some  terrible  doubt  was  eating  her 
heart  away. 

The  little  clock  upon  the  mantlepiece  struck  three. 
Lady  lanthe  rose  hastily. 

"  How  unpardonably  wrong  of  me,"  she  said,  "  to  keep 
you  up  so  long,  Do  forgive  me,  Silvia.  How  selfish 
sorrow  makes  us." 

"  Let  me  go  to  your  room  with  you,"  said  Silvia,  "  you 
ought  not  to  be  left  alone." 


166  THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  No,  I  thank  yon.  I  will  write  my  letter.  My  heart 
beats,  my  pnlse  is  throbbing  until  it  pains  me;  writing 
that  letter  will  give  me  rest  and  do  me  good." 

The  earl's  proud  daughter  clasped  her  arms  round 
Silvia's  neck  ;  she  bowed  her  beautiful  head  on  hers. 

"  You  are  another  plank,  Silvia,"  she  said,  gently, 
"  but  not  strong  enough  to  save  me  from  destruction." 

With  these  words — sad,  hopeless,  almost  despairing, 
she  quitted  the  room,  and  Silvia  remained  alone  to  medi- 
tate on  this  problem  of  life.  The  world,  after  all,  was 
the  same,  everywhere  the  same.  In  Cleve  House  she 
had  begun  to  think  that  if  a  woman  only  married  a  man 
who  was  kind  to  her,  fond  of  her,  and  patient  with  her, 
no  more  was  needed  for  a  life's  happiness.  Now  she  saw 
Lady  lanthe  married — secretly,  it  is  true — to  a  man  she 
loved.  Did  happiness  result  from  it?  No;  nothing 
could  possibly  result  from  it  but  misery  and  disgrace. 

What  did  bring  happiness?  Not  money,  not  rank, 
not  position,  not  love — she  had  seen  all  fail.  Her  face 
grew  grave  and  solemn ;  nothing,  it  seemed,  of  worldly 
origin — nothing  of  earth. 

"  And  I  used  to  think  when  I  was  a  girl  that  every 
one  was  born  to  be  happy,  purposely  to  be  happy,  and 
for  no  other  reason  on  earth.  I  have  not  been  happy 
myself,  only  for  a  few  short  months.  Who  is  happy?  '' 

There  came  to  her  then,  perhaps  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  a  sensation  of  longing  for  that  bright,  beautiful, 
home  above,  where  no  sorrow  and  care  ever  enter — the 
heaven  that  rewards  a  good  life  and  crowns  duty. 

She  was  only  young,  and  had  suffered  deeply ;  her 
heart  had  been  wrung  with  the  anguish  of  betrayed  love ; 
'.he  fair  name  and  womanly  purity  that  had  been  her 
pride,  the  crown  of  her  girlhood,  had  been  rudely  torn 
from  her  and  dragged  in  the  dust.  There  was  no  hope 
left  for  her  on  earth.  Her  dreams  of  love,  of  happiness, 
of  peace  and  honor,  were  all  most  cruelly  ended  ;  life 
blighted,  hope  betrayed  and  dead,  were  all  that  remained 
to  IMT.  But,  as  she  stood  there  in  the  silence  of  night, 
for  the  first  time  there  came  to  her  what  seemed  like  a 
revelation — a  longing  for  the  better  home,  where  no  sin, 
no  sorrow,  no  shame  ever  enter. 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  167 

Silvia  slept  little  that  night;  morning  had  dawned  long 
before  she  closed  her  eyes,  and  then  the  dreams  that  came 
to  her  of  Lady  lauthe  were  most  terrible  ones. 

She  did  not  like  the  task  that  lay  before  her.  True, 
Mr.  Clifford  Raymond  was  very  handsame,  very  accom- 
plished, a  man  to  touch  any  woman's  heart,  and  win  love ; 
but  she  did  not  like  him.  It  might  be  that  she  was  pre- 
judiced against  him;  but  there  was  a  weakness,  a  want 
of  resolution,  a  kind  of  moral  cowardice  in  his  face  that 
she  did  not  like.  Yet  she  had  promised,  and  she  must 
keep  her  word.  It  was  still  early  in  the  morning  when 
Lady  lanthe  opened  her  door.  Silvia  was  almost  shocked 
to  find  that  she  still  wore  her  evening  dress  arid  jewels. 

"  You  have  not  rested  a  tall,  Lady  lanthe,"  she  said. 

"  No ;  but  I  have  written  my  fever  all  away.  See, 
my  hands  are  cold.  I  do  not  think  I  ever  shall  be  warm 
again.  You  see  the  address,  Silvia.  My  husband  always 
keeps  these  rooms.  When  his  family  are  in  town,  then  he 
stays  with  them.  Take  a  cab,  and  drive  straight  to  Gros- 
venor  Street ;  go  early  that  you  may  see  him  before  he 
leaves  home,  and,  oh,  Silvia!  remember  my  suspense, 
dear  it  will  be  most  terrible." 

"  I  will  do  all  that  love  and  sympathy  can  do,"  she  said. 
"  I  will  send  to  Lady  Leesou  at  once." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

A    DEATH-WARRANT. 

"  MRS.  RYMER  wants  to  go  out,"  repeated  Lady  Leeson, 
when  her  maid  delivered  the  message.  "  I  suppose  I 
must  say  '  yes; '  but  really  it  is  very  annoying.  Did  she 
say  how  long  she  wished  to  be  absent?" 

"  Until  noon,  I  understood,  my  lady,"  replied  the 
maid,  who  did  not  look  upon  Mrs.  Rymer  in  any  favor- 
able light. 

"  Tell  Mrs.  Rymer  that  I  hope  she  will  not  be  later," 
and  Lndy  Leeson  turned,  with  a  sigh,  on  her  pillow. 

In  the  present  state  of  affairs  she  wa&  learning  to  trust 
MI'J*.  Rymer  above  any  one  else.  She  had  thought  of 


168  THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD. 

rising  and  having  a  long  talk  with  her,  telling  her^all 
that  had  passed  between  Lady  Janthe  and  herself,  taking 
counsel  with  her;  but  if  she  were  going  out,  all  those 
plans  would  be  quite  hopeless,  quite  in  vain. 

Silvia  dressed  herself,  and  in  her  plain  mourning  attire, 
her  delicate,  graceful  beauty  showed  to  such  advantage 
that  she  was  almost  ashamed  of  herself.  No  girlish  emo- 
tion of  happinesr  gladdened  her  heart,  no  thrill  of  delight 
at  her  beauty,  no  exultant  feeling  of  joy  that  Heaven 
had  made  her  so  fair,  came  over  her ;  she  was  more 
than  ashamed  of  her  loveliness  and  something  like  afraid. 

With  the  letter  securely  clasped  in  her  hand,  she  walk- 
ed to  the  nearest  cab-stand,  and  was  soon  on  her  way  to 
Grosvenor  Street.  The  cab  stopped  at  No.  39,  and  with 
a  beating  heart  Silvia  saw  the  house  where  Lady  lanthe's 
husband  lived. 

She  asked  for  Mr  Kaymond,  and  was  told  that  that 
gentleman  was  not  yet  visible. 

"  I  will  wait  for  him,"  said  Silvia.  "  My  business 
with  him  is  very  important." 

She  saw  the  mistress  of  the  house  making  a  grimace 
very  suggestive  of  disapproval ;  but  she  knew  that  she 
must  not  mind  trifles. 

"  Shall  I  say  any  name  ?  "  asked  rather  a  pert-looking 
servant. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Silvia,  with  quiet  dignity, 
"  I  am  quite  a  stranger  to  Mr.  Raymond  ;  he  would  not 
know  my  name," 

Then  the  landlady's  face  cleared. 

"  You  had  better  go  into  the  breakfast  room,"  she 
said.  "  Mr.  Raymond  will  not  be  long  now." 

Before  long  the  door  opened,  and  Lady  lanthe's  hus- 
band entered.  He  recognized  Silvia  at  once,  and  went 
up  to  her  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  Mrs.  Rymer,"  he  cried,  "  1  never  dreamed  of  seeing 
you.  They  told  me  a  lady,  but  I  felt  sure  it  was  only  a 
subscription  for  a  charity,  or  something  of  that  kind." 

Then  a  sudden  alarm  came  over  him,  as  he  saw  Silvia's 
grave  face. 


There  is  nothing  wrong  with  Lady  Tanthe?  " 
"  There  is  nothing  wrong,"   she  replied.     "  I 


merely 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  169 

wanted  to  see  yon  on  business.  You  have  not  taken 
breakfast  vet,  Mr.  Raymond  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  I  was  late  last  evening,  but  I 
could  not  think  of  detaining  you,  Mrs.  Rymer." 

"  Take  my  advice,"  she  said,  "  and  drink  some  choco- 
late, I  may  detain  you  some  little  time." 

She  was  charitable  enough  to  remember  that,  in  all 
probability,  the  letter  she  had  with  her  would  completely 
destroy  his  chance  of  appetite. 

She  sat  still  while  lie  drank  the  chocolate,  and  the 
more  she  looked  at  the  handsome  face  the  more  she 
disliked  him. 

"  Lady  lanthe's  good  sense  must  have  failed  her," 
Silvia  said  to  herself,  "  when  she  intrusted  her  happiness 
to  one  who  looks  so  little  trustworthy." 

Then  Mr.  Raymond  came  over  to  her.  He  had  been 
casting  very  uncomfortable  glances  in  her  direction.  He 
drew  a  chair  close  to  hers,  and  spoke  in  a  very  subdued, 
uncomfortable  voice. 

"  I  can  only  repeat,  Mrs.  Rymer,"  he  said,  "  that  \ 
hope  there  is  nothing  wrong.  You  have  brought  me  a 
communication  of  some  kind  from  Lady  lanthe ;  I  hope 
she  is  well." 

"  I  left  her  very  well,  but  very  anxious,"  said  the 
young  girl.  "  Lady  lanthe  desired  me  to  give  you  this 
letter,  to  wait  while  you  read  it,  and  take  back  your 
answer." 

He  took  the  letter  from  her  hand,  and  she  noticed  that 
his  lips  grew  pale  and  twitched  nervously. 

Silvia  looked  into  the  handsome  face  that  was  yet  so 
wanting  in  what  to  her  were  the  chief  charms  —  power 
and  frankness — then  she  continued  : 

"  Lady  lanthe  bade  me  say  that  she  has  been  obliged 
to  take  some  one  into  her  confidence ;  therefore  she  has 
taken  me." 

The  pallor  on  his  face  deepened. 

"  So,  you  know  all  ?  "  he  said  slowly. 

"  Yes.  Lady  lanthe  found  herself  compelled  to  trust 
some  one,  and  she  has  trusted  me." 

"  Impossible  to  have  made  a  better  choice,"  he  said, 
with  an  awkward  attempt  at  gallantry. 


170  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

Then  he  unfolded  the  letter  and  began  to  read  it. 
Even  Silvia  was  surprised  at  its  length ;  there  was  sheet 
after  sheet  of  closely  written  lines.  She  watched  him 
as  he  read,  and  for  Lady  lanthe's  sake  her  heart  sunk 
deeper  and  deeper. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  expression  of  that  hand- 
some face ;  there  came  a  lowering  frown  on  the  brow,  an 
angry  shadow  in  the  eyes,  the  pale  lips  worked  convul- 
sively. He  read  in  stern  silence,  then  she  felt  sure  that  a 
muttered  oath  came  from  between  his  lips. 

He  crushed  the  letter  in  his  hand,  he  walked  restlessly 
up  and  down  the  room,  then  he  turned  a  wild,  haggard 
face  to  Mrs.  Rymer. 

"  You  were  to  take  my  answer  back,"  he  said. 

"  So  Lady  lanthe  wished,"  she  replied,  briefly. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  say.  I  am  lost,  bewildered  ; 
it  is  unexpected,  and  I  was  never  less  prepared.  I  do 
not  know  what  answer  to  send  ;  it  is  the  most  unfortu- 
nate state  of  things." 

"  It  is  trebly  unfortunate  for  Lady  lanthe,"  said  Silvia, 
gravely.  A  great  dislike  was  springing  up  in  her  heart 
for  him. 

"  It  is  just  as  I  thought,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  just  as 
I  surmised.  He  is  selfish  enough  to  lead  any  one  into 
trouble  and  difficulty,  yet  weak  in  emergencies,  not  to  be 
trusted,  and  quite  unable  to  help  them  out." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  do,"  he  said ;  "  I  am  quite 
bewildered.  I  must  ask  you  to  wait,  Mrs.  Rymer,  while  I 
think ;  there  is  no  way  out  of  my  difficulties  that  I  can 
see." 

He  sat  down  again  and  seemed  to  engross  himself  in 
his  own  thoughts;  they  were  not  pleasant  ones,  as  she 
could  tell  from  the  heavy  frown,  the  muttered  words,  the 
restless  swaying  of  the  whole  body.  She  was  too  indig- 
nant to  offer  any  suggestions. 

"  Verily,"  she  thought,  "  the  earl's  daughter  has  made 
a  strange  choice  —  the  man  is  a  coward,  afraid  of  the 
consequences  of  his  own  acts." 

And  it  struck  her  suddenly,  how  frail  was  the  plank 
stood  between  Lady  lanthe,  and  her  destruction  — 
frail  and  insecure. 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  171 

Then  Mr.  Raymond  rose  and  went  to  his  writing-table. 
He  looked  irresolutely  at  her. 

"  You  are  sure,  that  Lady  lanthe  wanted  an  answer 
now?  "  he  said. 

"Yes,"  replied  Silvia;  "there  can  be  no  delay,  as 
doubtless  her  letters  tell  you.  Some  course  of  action 
must  be  decided  upon  at  once." 

He  turned  away  impatiently  and  began  to  write. 
When  once  the  letter  was  begun  she  could  not  help  see- 
ing how  he  warmed  to  the  subject.  He  wrote  rapidly, 
then  laying  aside  sheet  after  sheet  as  he  finished  them, 
after  the  fashion  of  a  writer  hard  at  work. 

Still  Silvia,  watching  him,  came  to  the  conclusion,  that 
he  was  sending  no  comfort  to  her.  He  wrote  with  angry 
frown,  biting  his  lips,  and  murmmuring  to  himself  the 
while.  "When  he  had  finished,  he  gathered  up  the  loose 
sheets,  arranged,  folded,  and  sealed  them  in  an  envelope. 
He  gave  a  great  sigh,  as  of  one  whose  mind  is  relieved 
from  a  heavy  burden. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  far  Lady  lanthe  has  trusted  you, 
Mrs.  Rymer,"  he  said  ;  "  but,  if  you  really  have  her  inter- 
est at  heart,  if  you  are  truly  her  friend,  and  she  tells  you 
the  advice  I  have  given  her  here,  you  will  see  that  she 
follows  it,  you  will  advise  her  to  do  it.  It  is  an  unfortu- 
nate piece  of  business,  altogether,  and  that  is  the  only 
way  I  can  see  out  of  it." 

As  Silvia  leff  the  house  she  thought  to  herself : 

"  If  girls  and  women  could  see  the  nature  of  the  men 
for  whom  they  sacrifice  themselves,  how  they  would  de- 
spise them.  Lady  lanthe  would  give  up  every  earthly 
hope  for  him.  He  seems  tired  of  the  whole  affair." 

Theii  she  began  to  wonder  what  was  in  this  packet, 
what  kind  of  news  she  was  taking  home  to  the  young 
girl  who  was  awaiting  it  so  anxiously.  She  little  knew 
that  it  was  a  death-warrant. 

When  she  reached  home  some  visitors  were  there,  just 
going  to  luncheon,  and  Lady  Leeson  seemed  pleased  to 
see  her. 

"  It  is  long  past  noon,"  said  Silvia,  contritely.  "  I  am 
very  sorry,  Eady  Leesou,  but  I  was  most  unavoidably  de- 
tained." 


a72  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

The  countess  was  very  gracious. 

"  Pray  do  not  mention  the  delay,  Mrs.  Rymer,"  she 
Baid ;  "  I  am  pleased  to  see  you  hack  again." 

She  could  not  deliver  the  letter  to  Lady  lanthe  until 
dinner  was  over,  for  there  was  a  constant  influx  of  visi- 
tors. But  at  last  she  was  able  to  put  it  into  her  hands. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A    CRUEL   BLOW. 

LORD  MONFORD,  with  several  other  visitors,  passed  the 
evening  at  Dale  House.  It  was  not  one  of  the  countess's 
regular  reception  nights;  incident  or  chance  brought 
them  together ;  but,  as  it  so  happened,  Lady  lanthe  found 
no  opportunity  of  reading  her  letter.  Only,  once  or 
twice,  when  Silvia  passed  her,  she  said,  with  a  smile : 

"  My  plank — I  have  not  tested  the  strength  of  my 
plank  yet."  Lord  Monford  was  wonderfully  kind  and 
gentle  that  evening ;  his  thoughtful  consideration  touched 
Lady  lanthe's  heart. 

"  I  hope  to  see  yon  to  -  morrow,"  he  said  to  her ;  "  I 
hope  to  hear  some  words  from  your  lips  that  will  m;il«' 
me  the  happiest  man  in  the  world.  I  am  counting  the 
hours  until  to-morrow  comes." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  faint  pallid  smile  he  never 
forgot. 

"  The  strong  are  always  merciful,"  she  said.  "Will 
you  remember  that  ?  " 

He  seemed  surprised  at  her  words,  and  hardly  under- 
stood them. 

"  Mercy  and  you  have  but  little  in  common,"  he  re- 
plied wonderingly. 

It  seemed  to  Lady  lanthe  that  their  visitors  would 
never  go.  She  talked,  laughed,  played  her  part,  as 
though  no  weight  of  lead  was  making  her  heart  ache. 

They  went  at  last ;  but  even  then  Lady  lanthe  was  not 
free.  Lord  Leeson  had  been  exceedingly  pleased  with 
Lord  Monford's  manner;  the  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  hia  daughter's  marriage  with  him  seemed  to  in- 


THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD.  173 

crease  with  every  moment.  Then  it  struck  him  that  as 
the  countess  had  tried  her  eloquence,  and  tried  it  in  vain, 
it  would  be  as  well  now  for  him  to  begin.  As  his  daugh- 
ter was  quitting  the  room,  he  said  to  her  : 

"  lanthe  spare  me  a  few  minutes  this  evening ;  I  want 
to  speak  to  you." 

Then  she  had  the  same  scene  to  go  through  again — 
prayers,  entreaties,  expostulation,  remonstrance,  reproach 
and  passionate  pleading.  She  could  make  but  the  same 
answer — she  wanted  time,  but  the  earl  was  not  so  easily 
managed  as  the  countess ;  neither  tears  nor  anything  else 
made  the  least  impression  upon  him.  The  question,  to 
his  practical  mind,  lay  in  a  nutshell.  Either  she  loved 
him,  or  she  did  not ;  either  she  meant  to  marry  him,  or 
she  did  not ;  a  straightforward  answer  was  wanted,  and  it 
seemed  to  Lord  Leeson  a  very  easy  thing  to  do. 

"  I  do  not  think  any  man  living  can  possibly  under- 
stand a  woman,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Now,  why  in  the 
world  cannot  that  girl  make  up  her  mind,  in  a  sensible 
kind  of  way,  to  marry  Monford,  and  put  an  end  to  all 
this  nonsense  ?  I  suppose  common  sense,  and  matter-of- 
fact,  straightforward  dealings  are  quite  beyond  feminine 
capability." 

It  was  very  long  after  midnight  when  Lady  lanthe 
left  the  earl  and  went  to  her  own  room.  She  was 
pale  and  exhausted. 

"  I  cannot  bear  this  much  longer,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
quite  tired  of  my  life !  " 

Then  her  own  fanciful  image  of  the  plank  came  into 
her  mind.  A  piteous  sob  rose  to  her  lips. 

"  I  was  blind,"  she  said  ;  "  I  was  foolish  ;  but  I  have 
my  one  plank  to  trust  to.  What  will  Clifford  say  ?  " 

As  she  passed  through  the  broad,  fragrant  corridors,  a 
thought  of  what  that  letter  might  contain  came  to  her 
mind.  Love,  warm,  glowing,  devoted  love  such  as  would 
repay  her  for  all  this  sacrifice  and  suffering.  He  would 
be  sure  to  write  as  he  had  spoken  in  those  happy  days 
when  the  whole  world  seemed  to  center  itself  in  their 
love.  He  would  say  that  he  should  come  and  claim  her 
now  —  come  and  take  her  away  to  a  home  of  their  own, 
humble,  perhaps  poor,  but  glorified  and  beautified  by  love. 


174  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

He  wonld  thank  her  for  being  so  trne  to  him;  he  would 
console  her  in  her  sorrow;  he  would  bless  her,  love  her, 
and  thank  her  for  her  constant  devotion.  Her  letter 
would  tell  her  all  this  and  more,  a  thousand  times  more. 

She  longed  to  read  it,  and  now  she  had  it  in  her 
possession  all  those  hours. 

"  How  time  has  changed  me  !  "  she  thought,  sadly. 
"  I  can  remember  when  I  had  not  the  patience  to  wait 
for  anything  above  half  an  hour." 

Then  she  drew  her  chair  to  the  toilet-table  ;  but  the 
time  for  reading  had  not  yet  come.  There  was  her 
maid. 

"  Shall  I  put  away  your  jewels,  my  lady  ?  "  she  asked. 

Lady  lanthe  was  obliged  to  wait  until  the  pearls  were 
unclasped  from  her  white  neck,  and  from  the  coils  of 
her  bright  hair,  and  placed  in  their  cases.  Then  there 
was  a  dress  of  pretty  rose  silk,  with  its  lace  trimmings  ; 
but  her  patience  had  ended  now. 

"  Never  mind  the  dress,"  she  said ;  "  I  will  remove 
that  myself." 

She  was  alone  at  last,  and,  with  a  great  sigh  of  relief 
she  drew  the  letter  from  her  pocket.  A  beautiful,  tender 
smile  played  round  her  lips  as  she  stood  looking  at  the 
writing.  She  kissed  the  place  where  his  hand  had  rested. 

"  My  love,"  she  whispered ;  "  I  do  not  repent  it ;  I 
will  never  repent  it,  for  I  love  you  !  " 

Then  she  opened  the  letter.  No  one  could  ever  de- 
scribe that  last  hour  and  the  last  thoughts  of  a  condemn- 
ed criminal  ;  no  one  could  describe  the  sensations  of  a 
drowning  man.  No  one  can  tell  what  passed  through  the 
gentle  heart  of  Lady  lanthe  as  she  read  that  letter —  her 
:K-ath-warrant.  \ 

As  she  read  her  face  grew  ghastly  in  its  white  despair, 
a  great  cloud  of  darkness  seemed  to  come  over  her  eyes, 
her  lips  quivered,  the  hands  that  held  the  letter  trembl- 
ed ;  she  rose  once  from  her  seat,  but  a  great  horror  came 
over  her — a  great  dread. 

"  I  cannot  believe  it !  "  she  said  —  "I  cannot  believe 
it !  My  senses  have  played  me  false — my  eyes  have  read 
wrongl v,  or  it  is  a  jest — a  sorry,  cruel  jest  that  he  plays 
upon  me.  Oh,  Clifford  1  Clifford  1  " 


THROWN   ON  THE   WORLD.  175 

She  read  it  again. 

"  If  I  thought  he  meant  it,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I 
would  never  live  to  see  another  sun  rise." 

Again  and  again,  as  though  some  secret  charm  held  her, 
she  read  the  closely  written  pages.  Again  and  again  she 
tried  to  rise,  hut  her  strength  had  failed  her. 

"  It  must  be  true,"  she  said  at  last,  in  a  hoarse  voice. 
"  He  must  mean  it." 

Then  making  a  desperate  effort,  she  went  to  Silvia's 
room. 

"  Silvia,"  she  said,  "  I  want  you  —  I  want  you  to  see 
how  the  plank  I  trusted  for  my  salvation  has  slipped 
from  under  my  feet.  Come  with  me,  and  read  how 
faithful,  how  true,  how  stanch  men  are ;  how  they  re- 
ward the  love  of  women ;  what  they  give  in  return 
when  a  life  has  been  given  to  them." 

Silvia  looked  up  in  alarm  at  the  agitated  face,  the  burn- 
ing eyes,  the  white,  trembling  lips. 

"  Lady  lanthe,"  she  said,  "  what  has  happened  to  you  ? 
— what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Nothing  very  material,"  she  replied,  with  a  bitter 
smile,  "  only  the  plank  has  slipped.  I  told  you  before 
that  I  heard  the  sound  of  rushing  waters.  Silvia,  Silvia, 
they  are  closing  over  my  head  !  " 

Greatly  alarmed,  Silvia  took  her  hand. 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  she  said ;  "  but,  dearest  Lady 
lanthe,  you  must  be  composed ;  you  will  kill  vourself 
with  this  agitation.' 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  she  said — "  I  wish  that  I  knew  what 
would  kill  me — I  would  soon  try  it." 

They  walked  together  to  her  room,  and  there,  upon  the 
floor,  Silvia  saw  the  sheets  of  paper — the  letter  that  con- 
tained Lady  lanthe's  death-warrant. 


176  T11BOWN    ON    THE    WOBLD. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE  COWARD'S  SUGGESTION. 

"  SIT  down  there,"  said  Lady  lanthe.  "  Silvia,  did 
you  know  that  men  were  so  treacherous  and  base — did 
you  know  it?  " 

Ah !  Silvia  bitterly  realized  how  base  and  treacherous 
men  could  be  !  Who  had  suffered  more  from  treachery 
than  she  had  done?  She  was  a  simple  country  girl ;  this 
was  an  earl's  daughter.  Could  it  be  possible  the  same 
fate  had  overtaken  both  ?  She  looked  into  that  beautiful, 
haggard  face. 

"  Does  he,  Mr.  Raymond,  deny  the  marriage  ? "  she 
asked. 

"No,  he  does  not  deny  it — better  for  me  a  thousand 
times  that  he  had  done  so.  He  admits  it;  but,  oh  I 
Silvia,  I  cannot  —  I  cannot  tell  you.  Read  for  yourself, 
and  see  what  men  are." 

She  gave  the  letter  into  Silvia's  hands,  and  while  Mrs. 
Rymer  read,  she  flung  herself  with  her  face  on  the 
ground,  moaning  out  that  of  all  women  she  was  the  most 
wretched. 

Silvia's  indignation  rose  to  something  like  furious  an- 
ger. 

"  *  My  dearest  lanthe,'— so  the  death-warrant  ran—'  J,  like  you, 
am  dreadfully  distresseed  at  the  sad  turn  aflairs  have  taken.  I, 
like  you,  am  utterly  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do.  J,  like  you,  am 
fearfully  apprehensive  of  consequences.' 

"  The  cowardly  traitor!  "  murmured  Silvia,  to  hersdf. 

"  «  I  am  afraid,  my  dearest  lanthe,  I  must  join  you  in  saying 
that  what  we  did  was  most  imprudent.  You  a?k  my  opinion  as 
t«i  what  would  be  the  best  thing  to  do  under  the  present  state  of 
rain.  lanthe,  I  do  not  know.  Look  which  wav  1  will,  iioihini? 
but  rum  can  follow  the  revelation  of  our  marriage.  It  could  not 
be  made  at  a  more  unfortunate  juncture.  You  'say  that  in  this 
state  of  things  you  rely  upon  me.  Alas !  that  you  have  no  strong- 
er, no  firmer  source  of  reliance.  I.  for  my  part,  feel  quite  help- 
less to  Rdvi>«-. 

u  1  am  placed  in  these  circumstances—but  of  course  you  know 
them.  My  father,  not  a  wealthy  man  him**  11.  i:a~  li.ue  BOI.S  and 
three  daughters  to  provide  for.  I,  a*  c-kh-.-i.  lu.vu  of  course  the 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLb.  177 

estate ;  but  that  estate,  as  you  know,  is  a  very  small  one,  and  it 
will  not  be  mine  until  my  father's  death,  and  in  all  probability  he 
may  live  twenty  years  longer.  My  allowance  is  five  hundred  per 
annum.  Alas,  lanthe!  how  can  I  support  an  earl's  daughter  as 
my  wife?  You  see,  my  dear  lanthe,  I  am  no  fortune  hunter— 
never  was ;  but  when  I  persuaded  you  to  take  that  fatal  step,  [ 
was  under  the  impression  that,  as  the  Earl  of  Leeson's  only  child, 


it  ties  my  hands,  and  takes  from  me  all  power  of  acting. 

"  '  Then  knowing  our  circumstances,  my  father  is  very  anxiou- 
for  me  to  marry  well.  What  he  calls  well  is  some  one  with  plenty 
of  money.  Of  course,  no  alliance  could  be  more  flattering  than  a 
marriage  with  the  Earl  of  Leeson's  daughter;  but  if  my  father 
knew  that  that  same  e.irl  was  a  bankrupt  peer,  it  would  make  a 
great  difference  in  his  estimation.  Remember,  dearest  lanthe.  1 
am  speaking  of  ray  father's  opinions,  not  my  own.  For  myself — 
ah !  well  you  know,  lanthe,  what  I  think. 

"  '  I  dare  not  tell  my  father  what  I  have  done;  I  dare  not 
lanthe,  his  anger  would  be  so  great.  He  would  instantly  stop  my 
allowance  and  then  I  should  be  penniless.  Th:it  is  what  would 
follow  the  avowal  of  marriage  on  my  side,  now  on  yours.  It 
seems  to  me  that  if  you  say  one  word,  the  most  complete  and 
utter  ruin  follows  it  —  your  father  becomes  bankrupt — ruin, 
misery,  and  despair. 

"  '  Now,  lanthe.  looking  this  quite  calmly  in  the  fane,  what  can 
I  think  or  say? — 'What  can  we  do?  Ruin  follows  any  declaration 
of  our  marriage.  It  seems  to  me  the  only  resource  for  either  of 
us  is  to  keep  our  secret  still. 

u  '  You  will  ask  me  how  that  is  to  be  done?  I  ought  to  be  the 
last  man  in  the  world  even  to  suggest  such  a  thing;  but  I  see 
nothing  else  for  it — nothing  in  the  wide  world.  Let  us,  for  in- 
stance, say  that  I  write  you  a  most  romantic  letter,  saying  I  can 
not  live  without  you — and  you  know,  dearest  lanthe,  that  is  true. 
Suppose  I  urge  you  at  all  cost  to  leave  home  and  join  me,  what 
happens  then? 

u  '  We  are  quite  without  money ;  we  have  no  home,  no  prospect 
of  getting  one ;  it  might  be  years  before  I  could  get  the  least  ap- 
pointment. During  that  time  how  could  we  live? — you  especiallv. 
who  have  been  brought  up  in  luxury,  and  have  never  known  priva- 
tion or  care? 

"  "  It  would  be  simple  madness,  fanthe.  You  know  it.  I  know 
it.  We  should  not  only  go  to  ruin  ourselves,  but  we  should  drag 
many  others  down  with  us;  we  should  destroy  many  lives  besides 
our  own.  I  see  but  this  one  alternative — we  must  let  that  unfortu- 
nate marriage  be  as  though  it  had  never  been. 

u  '  You  will  shrink  from  this.  So  do  I  —  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
much;  but  I  see  no  alternative.  Do  you  understand  me.  lanthe? 
No  one  knows  our  secret;  it  cannot  be  known;  it  is  as  safe  as 
though  we  were  both  dead.  Then,  what  I  propose  is  this;  but 
before  I  write  it — O  rant.he.  Tnnth^  .my  IOVP,  how  it  grieves  m,.  \ 
—  before  I  write  it,  let  me  tell  you  how  dearly  I  love  you,  arid 


178  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 

how,  from  the  very  depths  of  my  heart,  I  grieve  for  this  untoward 
aspect  of  affairs. 

"  '  This  is  my  proposal.  lanthe.  Lot  that  unfortunate  marriage 
go  by  as  though  it  had  never  takon  place.  \Ve  need  not  mention 
it.  There  may  have  been  some  informality  in  it  that  renders  it 
null  and  void — I  can  nut  say.  \Ve,  who  contracted  it,  will  render 
i!  null  and  void  by  our  own  free  will — we  will  annul  it;  and  then 
we  can  each  follow  the  path  that  seems  best  for  us. 

•'  *  Do  not  think,  lanthe,  these  words  cause  me  no  pain;  they 
do — a  most  bitter  pain.  When  I  remember  how  dearly  I  have 
loved  you.  bow  bright  and  glowing  my  hopes  on  the  morning  I 
iitMfled  you — when  I  think  of  our  plans  and  hopes,  my  heart  is 
bitter  as  death;  but  I  have  common  sense,  and  I  see  no  help  for 
it. 

"  '  So,  lanthe,  you  must  look  upon  what  we  thought  marriage 
simply  as  a  betrothal,  and  from  this  betrothal  I  release  you;  I  re- 
lease you  from  every  promise  you  have  ever  made  to  me;  I  re- 
lease you  from  every  tie  of  fidelity ;  1  ask  nothing  f rom  you  but 
a  place  in  your  memory. 

'•  '  That  *  is  my  proposal.  Consider  it  well,  lanthe.  it  gives  you 
freedom,  liberty,  wealth,  the  power  of  pleasing  your  friends";  it 
gives  me  the  ability  to  please  my  father.  Take  into  consideration 
that  our  marriage  was  a  mistaken  one;  that  we  were  led  into  it 
through  error  over  your  father's  position;  that  had  we  known  at 
the  time  the  reality  and  truth,  we  should  neither  of  us  have  dream- 
ed of  marriage.  Consider  another  thing  —  that  married  in  that 
secret,  underhand  way,  there  may  be  some  flaw  that  will  render 
that  marriage  quite  invalid. 

'•  '  You  see,  lauthe,  that  this  is  the  only  feasible  plan  I  can  sug- 
gest. Now  for  your  objections.  First,  it  will  necessitate  our 
parting.  That,  we  cannot  help:  as  circumstances  are,  we  must 
part.  Better  that  than  to  drag  many  others  into  an  abyss  of 
misery.  It  will  be  hard,  but  we  can  be  friends,  and  no  one  knows 
what  the  future  holds  in  its  grasp. 

'  Another  objection  that  yon  will  perhaps  make  is,  that  it  is 
not  right.  That  lanthe,  is  a  'mistake,  a  false  scruple,  founded  on 
false  notions;  there  is  no  sense  in  it.  Our  marriage,  as  I  have  said 
before,  was  a  betrothal;  the  fact  of  its  secrecy  made  it  so:  and 
from  the  pledge  of  a  betrothal  we  may  always  release  one  another. 
•  You  will  bn-ak  no  moral  law  in  'my  eyes.  There  is  nothing 
like  having  a  good,  bold  intellectual  grasp  of  those  things.  You 

ill  do  no  wrong,  if  you  join  with  me  in  annulling  this  contract  of 
"in  s.  It  concerns  no  one  else  but  ourselves. 

'  Having  laid  my  thoughts  very  clearly  before  you,  lanthe.  I 
now  offer  you  the  best  advice  I  can ;'  accept  'Lord  Mo'nford's  propo- 
sals. You  will  secure  wealth  and  everything  else,  except  love; 
and,  remember,  life  holds  many  chances.  I  c:-nnot  allude  more 
plainly  to  what  I  mean.  Marry  Lord  Monfi-rd,  then  you  will 
have  taken  the  best  possible  precaution  for  yourself.  I  think, 
lanthe.  that  I  shall  go  abroad.  F  find  that  I  love  you  too  well  to 
etmd  by  qnitttly  and  se<-  you  married  to  another.  "l  find  my  heart 
heavy,  aii-i  my  whole  soul  sad. 

•   •  1  sh;ill  in  all  probability  go  soon,  and  then  you  will  know  that 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  179 

the  waves  of  the  sea,  the  whispers  of  the  wind,  are  not  more  free 
than  you  to  do  as  you  will.  Perhaps,  Inn  the,  under  these  circum- 
stances, it  will  be  better  for  you  to  destroy  all  letters,  and  all  trace 
of  correspondence.  This,  the  sweet,  hidden  romance  of  our  youth 
will  always  bring  bitter  pain  with  its  memory;  but  to  me  it  will 
be  the  sweetest,  dearest,  and  most  precious  portion  of  my  life. 

u  '  Now  I  must  say  farewell,  lanthc.  This  is  not  what  we  dream- 
ed of  that  bright  morning;  but  fate  and  fortune  have  been  too 
strong  for  us.  There  is  nothing  for  us  hut  philosophical  resolu- 
tion. Rest  assured  of  one  thing,  lant.he.  ours  is  not  the  only  ro-. 
tnance  of  the  kind  to  be  found  in  the  world.  If  we  could  only 
read  the  secrets  of  hearts,  we  should  know  there  were  many  other 
such  secrets  as  ours. 


CHAPTER   XLT. 

REPROACH,  MISERY,   AND  DESPAIR. 

"  MY  opinion  of  Mr.  Raymond,"  said  Silvia,  "  is  most 
decidedly  that  he  is  mad.  1  c.in  see  nothing  else  for  it." 

But  the  beautiful,  unhappy  girl,  crunching  on  the 
ground,  moaning  out  the  wretchedness  of  her  lot,  made 
no  reply. 

"He  must  be  mad,"  continued  Silvia;  "  no  man  in 
his  senses  could  be  so  devoid  of  principle,  of  morality, 
of  common  sense,  of  every  good  and  righteous  impulse. 
He  must  be  mad,  or — " 

Then  she  paused,  and  Lady  lanthe  raised  her  haggard 
face. 

"  Or  what?"  she  asked. 

"  Or  he  must  know  of  something  that  makes  the  form 
of  marriage  you  went  through  null  and  void." 

She  shook  her  head,  with  a  low,  desponding  sigh. 

"  It  is  not  so,  Silvia,"  she  said.  "  I  can  distinctly 
remember,  as  we  stood  in  the  vestry  that  morning,  ho 
turned  to  me  and  said : 

"  '  That  has  been  managed  very  quietly  and  cleverly, 
lanthe.  No  soul  knows  anything  of  it;  yet,  we  are  as 
securely  married  as  though  the  Archbishop  of  C.mterbnry 
with  every  dean  in  his  diocese,  had  helped  to  marry  us.' 

"  I  remember,  Silvia,  that  he  used  those  very  words. 
Rely  upon  it  that  whatever  else  was  wrong,  that  WHS 
right.  Oh,  Silvia,  Silvia!  was  pride  ever  brought  so  ]()••-• 
as  mine?  I  give  him  my  life,  and  he  lays  it  down  •.; 


ISO  THROWN  ON  THE  WOBLD. 

though  it  were  a  faded  flower.  Oh,  Silvia!  was  ever 
woman  brought  so  low." 

"  If  I  were  a  man,"  said  Silvia,  in  a  low,  clear  voice, 
"  I  would  follow  him  and  shoot  him." 

Lady  lanthe  held  up  her  hands  with  a  shudder  of  dis- 
may. 

"  Hushl  "  she  said;  u  I  have  loved  him.  He  was  my 
hero  once,  as  the  husband  you  loved  was  your  hero.  I 
cannot  endure  to  hear  such  words,  because  it  makes  me 
think  the  man  I  loved  so  base — I  cannot  bear  them." 

"  He  is  base,"  said  Silvia,  indignantly.  "  I  have 
never  heard  of  many  cruel  cases,  of  many  bad  and  treach- 
erous men,  of  many  who  have  been  wanting  in  principle 
and  morality,  but  I  never  heard  of  one  so  utterly,  so  con- 
temptibly base." 

Lady  lanthe  clasped  her  hands  with  a  low  moan. 

"  You  are  killing  me,  Silvia,"  she  said ;  "  you  are  kill- 
ing me." 

Seeing  the  torture  of  anguish  in  that  white  face,  Silvia 
laid  the  letter  down  and  bent  over  the  hapless  girl. 

"  Pray  forgive  me,"  she  said ;  "  my  great  anger  made 
me  forget  myself.  We  will  talk  no  more  of  him,  but  of 
you.  What  shall  you  do  now  ?  " 

"  Die !  "  she  replied,  in  a  voice  so  hoarse  and  terrible 
that  Silvia  was  frightened.  "  Die !  there  is  nothing  left 
for  lanthe — but  death.  What  can  I  do,  Silvia?  Let 
him  say  what  he  will,  that  marriage  was  a  true  one,  and 
I  must  abide  by  it.  Because  the  obligation  fits  lightly 
on  him,  it  is  no  reason  why  it  should  sit  lightly  on  me; 
because  no  moral  law  or  moral  force  binds  him/that  ii?  IK. 
reason  why  it  should  not  bind  me.  I  cannot  throw  <  !i 
all  restraint  as  he  has  done." 

"  No,"  replied  Silvia,  "  you  cannot,  you  must  abide  by 
the  marriage." 

"  Then  if  I  look  my  position  plainly  in  the  face,"  taid 
Lady  lanthe,  "  what  do  I  see  ?  I  am  the  daughter  of  one 
of  the  proudest  peers  in  England  ;  yet  such  a  man  as 
Clifford  Raymond's  father  would  make  his  son  penniless 
for  having  married  me.  I  am  the  lawful  wife  of  a  man 
whose  only  anxiety  is  to  be  free  from  me,  and  who  treati 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  181 

his  marriage  with  me  as  an  absurd  joke — a  jest ;  a  mere 
empty  ceremony  that  he  can  annul  at  his  pleasure." 

She  paused — for  the  vehement  passion  of  her  own 
words  frightened  her. 

"  Can  I  go  to  my  father,  and  tell  him  I  am  Clifford 
Raymond's  wife,  when  Clifford  himself  tells  me  that  I 
am  free  —  can  I  even  trust  him?  If  I  told  my  father 
that  I  was  married,  would  he  not  deny  it?  Then  how 
could  I  survive  the  disgrace?  " 

She  fell  shuddering  again,  moaning  out  what  had  she 
done  that  she  was  so  heavily  punished,  crying  out  that 
she  could  not  bear  it — that  it  was  too  cruel. 

"  I  shall  never  mention  that  marriage,"  she  said,  when 
her  violent  passion  of  grief  had  abated.  "  I  shall  never 
mention  his  name ;  no  one  shall  know  how  he  dared  win 
me  and  throw  me  off  because  my  father's  circumstan- 
ces were  different  to  what  he  thought  them;  no  one 
shall  know  the  depth  to  which  I  have  fallen  ;  the  cruel 
blow  that  has  slain  me;  yet  I  shall  abide  by  that  mar- 
riage, as  a  true  and  lawful  one  before  Heaven. 

"  Oh,  Silvia,  Silvia!  is  there  anything  for  me,  except 
death  ?  I  cannot  set  aside  the  marriage,  nor  can  I  own 
it.  I  cannot  be  untrue  to  the  man  I  call  my  husband, 
neither  can  I  appeal  to  him  for  the  protection  of  his 
name.  I  cannot  marry  Lord  Monford,  neither  can  I  tell 
my  parents  why  I  cannot  marry  him.  I  must  refuse  in 
this,  the  great  crisis  of  their  lives,  to  help  them,  yet  I 
cannot  tell  why  I  refuse ;  they  will  think  me  cold  and 
heartless,  yet  I  cannot  tell  them  my  heart  is  broken.  Oh, 
Silvia  !  there  is  nothing  bnt  death  for  me  !  " 

"  Nay,"  said  Mrs.  Ryrner.  "  Remember  what  even 
he  says  :  *  Life  holds  many  chances.'  " 

The  haggard  face  was  raised  to  hers. 

"  Chances  yet ;  but  not  when  one  has  deliberately  shut 
herself  from  all  chances,  as  I  have  done.  What  can  life 
hold  for  me  ?  Not  love.  Oh,  cruel  word  !  What  is  so 
cruel  in  all  this  world  as  love  ?  Not  love,  for  my  heart 
is  broken ;  not  marriage,  for  I  am  married  to  one  who 
gives  me  my  liberty,  as  he  would  give  away  an  old  gar- 
ment ;  not  pleasure,  not  happiness,  not  even  comfort,  not 


182  THROWN    ON   THE    WOULD. 

the  luxury  of  helping  others.  Life  holds  none  of  these 
things  for  me." 

Silvia  knew  it  was  so,  and  could  answer  never  a  word. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  life  holds  for  me  2  Shame, 
ruin,  reproach,  misery  and  despair." 

Silvia  murmured  some  words  about  duty.  The  girl 
laughed  derisively. 

"Duty!  To  what — to  whom  ?  To  the  parents  my 
folly  must  ruin  ?  to  the  husband  who  tells  me  that  my 
marriage  was  only  an  empty  engagement  \  Duty  !  how 
can  one  remember  that,  when  the  very  landmarks  of  life 
are  torn  away?  " 

She  pushed  away  the  heavy  cluster  of  hair  that  lay 
over  her  brow. 

"  Silvia,"  she  said,  piteously,  looking  with  sad  eyes  in 
the  gentle  face  bending  over  hers,  "  Silvia,  I  can  remem- 
ber in  the  happy  life  that  seems  to  me  so  far  back,  I  was 
so  proud  of  being  beautiful.  I  am  beautiful  now,  am  I 
not  ?  " 

There  was  such  wistful  sadness  in  the  voice  that  Silvia 
knew  how  far  there  was  from  being  any  vanity  in  the 
case. 

"  You  are  very  lovely,  Lady  Lmthe,"  she  replied. 

"  Beautiful,  well-born.  Oh,  Silvia,  tell  me  what  these 
gifts  were  for.  They  have  not  made  me  happy,  dear." 

"  Because,"  replied  Silvia,  gently,  "  in  your  life  there 
has  been  a  terrible  mistake;  but  that  mistake  was  of 
your  own  making." 

"  I  know  it ;  there  is  no  help,  no  remedy  for  it.  I 
must  abide  now  by  its  consequences." 

There  was  silence,  terrible  in  its  intensity,  that,  lasted 
for  a  few  minutes;  then  Lady  Ian  the  caught  Silvia's 
hand  in  a  passionate  grasp. 

_'  What  am  I  to  do  when  to-morrow  comes?"  she  said; 
''  Lord  Monford  is  coming  for  my  answer.  My  father 
eays  that,  irr  spite  of  this  little  drawback  of  want  of  will, 
he  is  sure  that  I  shall  do  what  is  right.  My  mother,  as 
ehe  kissed  me  to-night,  told  me  that  I  was  the  dearest 
and  the  best,  that  she  knew  very  well  what  my  answer 
would  be.  What  am  I  to  tell  them,  Silvia  ? 

"  Must  I,"   ehe  continued,  wildly,  "  must  I  let  them 


THEOWN    ON    THE.    WORLD.  183 

think  me  heartless,  cold,  cruel,  ungrateful  ?  Must  I  let 
them  all  believe  I  prefer  my  whim  to  saving  them  from 
ruin?  I  cannot,  Silvia,  I  cannot;  there  is  but  one  way 
out  of  this  for  me." 

There  came  back  to  Silvia's  mind  vividly,  as  though  it 
had  only  happened  yesterday,  the  memory  of  her  own 
temptation,  of  the  time  when  she  had  sat  in  the  little 
graveyard,  only  longing  for  death  —  when  she,  too,  saw 
•u>  other  way  out  of  her  trouble.  Every  word  the  gray- 
haired  minister  had  spoken  to  her  came  back  to  her  mind. 
She  went  up  to  Lady  Ian  the  and  clasped  her  arms  around 
her. 

"  You  must  not  think  of  that,"  she  said ;  "  you  are 
thinking  of  escape  by  death." 

"  I  am,"  said  Lady  lanthe.  "  My  own  mother  said  a 
proud  woman  prefers  death  to  disgrace.  I  am  proud  and 
I  prefer  it." 

Word  by  word  Silvia  went  over  the  same  arguments 
that  the  kind  hearted  minister  had  used  to  her,  but  Lady 
lanthe  did  not  even  seem  to  hear  them;  her  beautiful, 
haggard  face  never  once  softened.  Just  as  Silvia  hoped 
that  she  was  making  some  impression  on  her,  she  said  : 

"  I  cannot  reproach  him,  Silvia.  How  is  it  I  can  not 
make  up  my  mind  to  say  or  to  hear  one  word  against 
him?  I  must  have  loved  him  very  much  indeed,  even 
more  than  I  thought  I  did." 

And  when  Silvia  began  again,  Lady  lanthe  interrupted 
her. 

"  You  are  very  good,  Silvia,  very  kind,  bnt  leave  me 
now,  dear.  I  shall  remember  what  you  have  said," 


THEOWM    ON    TUB    WOBLD. 


CHAPTER  XL1I. 

A    TERRIBLE    SHOCK. 

Bur  Silvia  was  unwilling  to  leave  the  unhappy  girl. 

"  Lady  lanthe,"  she  said,  frankly,  "  I  am  afraid  to 
leave  you.  Will  you  promise  me  to  go  to  rest  ? " 

The  gray  shade  deepened  on  her  face. 

"  I  promise  you,"  she  said,  wearily  ;  "  let  that  content 
you.  I  will  go  to  rest." 

And  it  never  occurred  to  Mrs.  Rymer  that  she  laid  a 
strange  emphasis  on  the  ominous  word — rest.  Just  as 
she  was  leaving  the  room  Lady  lanthe  caught  her  arm. 

"  Silvia,"  she  said,  "  I  was  aiiuost  forgetting  one  thing. 
I  want  you  to  promise  me — not  a  light  promise,  but  an 
oath — you  must  take  your  oath  to  me  that,  let  what  may 
happen,  you  will  never  reveal  one  word  of  what  I  have 
told  you." 

"  Will  not  my  word  suffice  ?  "  apked  Silvia,  quietly. 
i  "  No  !  Ah,  me  !  ah,  me  !  what  i&  the  word  of  man  or 
woman  worth?  Give  me  your  oath,  Silvia!  Life,  as  my 
chivalrous  lover  says,  is  full  of  chances ;  no  one  knows 
what  may  happen.  Swear  to  me,  that  if  by  good  or  evil 
fortune  anything  happens  to  me.  and  my  secret  is  suspect- 
ed, swear  to  me  that  under  no  circumstances,  under  no 
compulsion,  will  you  ever  reveal  one  word  of  what  I 
have  told  you — you  must  swear." 

Holding  Silvia's  hand  in  her  own,  she  made  her  take 
an  oath  so  solemn  that  she  knew  it  could  never  be  broken. 

"  Now  go,  Silvia,"  said  Lady  lanthe ;  "  I  have  so 
much  to  do.  I  must  destroy  those  letters,  so  as  to  leave 
no  trace  behind  of  the  hidden  romance,  the  wonderful 
romance  of  my  life.  I  have  one  or  two  letters  to  write. 
Leave  me,  dear.  Good-night." 

Long  afterward  Silvia  remembered  how  Lady  lanthe 
clasped  her  white  arms  round  her  neck  and  pressed  her 
cold  lips  to  her  face. 

^  You  are  very   kind   to  me,"   she  said.     u  Go 


THROWN    ON    THE   WORLD.  185 

dear ;  it  will  soon  be  morning,  and  I  have  so  much  to 
do." 

Silvia  went,  feeling  more  at  ease  than  she  had  done  for 
some  time.  Lady  lantlie  had  promised  to  go  to  rest. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  the  terrible  trouble  might  in  some  way 
be  averted.  She  slept,  because  she  was  exhausted,  and 
did  not  wake  until  long  after  the  fatal  morning  had 
dawned. 

Lady  lanthe's  face  changed  again  as  the  door  closed 
after  Silvia ;  the  coldness  and  despair  seemed  to  leave  it ; 
warm,  lovely  flushes  of  color  glowed  over  it. 

"  I  was  such  a  happy  girl,"  she  said  to  herself,    "  such 
a  happy  girl." 

She  was  like  one  taking  some  last  view  of  a  picture,  a 
bright  and  beautiful  picture.  The  light  lingered  on  her 
face  as  she  looked  at  it,  then  a  great  sigh  came  from  the 
overcharged  heart,  a  terrible  sigh,  as  she  turned  away. 
She  had  finished  with  that  picture  forever,  then. 

She  went  to  one  of  her  drawers,  unlocked  it,  and  took 
from  it  a  packet  of  letters  Only  Heaven  knew  what 
those  letters  had  been  to  her  once ;  how  full  they  were 
of  love,  of  vows,  of  tender  words  of  treachery  and  un- 
truth. They  were  tied  with  blue  ribbon,  and  it  was  the 
first  time  in  her  life  that  she  had  ever  touched  them  with- 
out passionate  kisses,  loving  words. 

Now  she  took  them  and  deliberately  tore  them  to 
piecas,  tore  them  into  a  thousand  shreds.  There  was  no 
softening  of  her  face  as  she  did  so,  a  terrible  strange 
mask  had  fallen  over  it.  "When  the  heap  of  white  paper 
lay  before  her  she  opened  the  window,  and  let  the  wind 
carry  the  fragments  slowly  away. 

She  stood  there,  perhaps  for  an  hour.  It  was  the  hour 
before  dawn,  and  the  wind  was  high.  It  took  the  frag- 
ments of  paper  and  whirled  them  over  the  tops  of  houses, 
over  the  trees,  scattered  them  far  and  wide,  yet  not  so 
far  as  the  hopes  with  which  they  had  been  read  had  beeu 
scattered. 

She  listened  to  the  distant  chiming  of  the  church  clocks 
and  never  a  prayer  that  Heaven  would  have  mercy  on 
lier  soul  came  from  her  lips. 


186  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

Then  she  went  to  her  writing  table  and  wrote  two 
letters;  she  addressed  them,  leaving  both  envelopes  open. 

In  that  same  writing-table  there  was  a  little  drawer. 
a  secret  drawer,  which  she  opened  now,  and  from  which 
she  took  a  small  bottle.  How  she  came  by  it  Feermd 
wonderful  at  first,  until  some  one  remembered  that  long 
ago  she  had  suffered  from  mnralgia,  and  this  medium- 
had  been  prescribed  as  a  cure.  She  held  the  little  bottle 
in  her  hand. 

"  How  I  have  suffered  before  I  could  do  this.  My 
heart  is  broken,  my  strength  has  left  me.  My  love  has 
grown  crnel  and  cold,  crnel  and  cold.  I  wonder  what 

comes — hereafter." 

*  -x-  *  *  #  *  # 

It  was  late  when  Silvia  Eyn;er  awoke  that  morning, 
a  beautiful  summer  morning,  the  sun  shining  brightly, 
the  birds  singing,  the  rlo\\ers  blooming  fair;  morning 
that  seemed  to  bid  all  hearts  rejoice,  because  nature,  fair, 
sweet  nature  was  so  bright.  She  did  not  feel  particularly 
anxious  over  Lady  lanthe.  It  frequently  happens  that 
after  dreading  a  catastrophe  for  pome  long  time,  a  certain 
calm  and  peace  falls  over  us  just  before  it  happens.  So 
it  was  with  Silvia  ;  she  had  long  felt  very  unhappy  over 
Lady  Ian  the,  but  on  this  morning,  when  the  veiy  worst 
had  happened,  she  felt  no  particular  misgiving  over  her. 

The  house  seemed  unusually  quiet.  Silvia  was  at  first 
apprehensive  that  she  might  have  overslept  herself.  She 
hastened  down  stairs.  The  earl  had  taken  breakfast  and 
"was  in  his  study. 

"  My  lady  was  still  in  her  room,"  the  maid  said  ;  "  si  e 
was  tired,  this  morning." 

"  Where  was  Lady  lanthe  V  asked  Silvia. 

Lady  lanthe's  maid  told  her  that  her  mistress  was  roi 
yet  awake. 

Silvia  thought  to  herself  that  she  was  pleased  it  was 
eo  ;  she  was  evidently  forgetting  her  troubles  in  sleep. 

Silvia   took    her   breakfast,  and    then    looking  at   lu-i 
watch,  saw  that  it  wns  sifter  ton.     It  oocnrred  to  her  th; 
after  all  that  exhaustion  and  emotion  Lady  lanthe  wouh, 
be  glad  of  some  tea.     She  tilled  a  cup  and  took  it  up  to 
her. 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  187 

The  rule  of  the  house  was  that  no  maid  should  enter 
the  rooms  belonging  to  the  ladies  until  they  were  rung 
for.  Lady  lanthe  had  not  rung,  so  Lady  Tanthe's  maid 
had  not  entered. 

Silvia  rapped  at  the  door,  but  no  answer  came  ;  then 
she  tried  it  gently  and  found  it  was  not  locked,  only 
secured  by  a  little  bolt.  She  pushed  it — still  there  came 
o  sound. 

"  Lady  lanthe,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

There  came  no  reply.  She  went  in,  and  to  the  day  of 
her  death  she  never  forgot  the  terrible  shock  that  came 
over  her  as  she  saw  that  silent  figure  in  the  chair  —  a 
shock  that  seemed  to  drive  the  blood  from  her  heart,  and 
the  strength  from  her  limbs. 

"  Could  she  have  fallen  asleep  there  ?  "  cried  the  girl 
to  herself.  "  Lady  lanthe,"  she  said  again.  Still  no  an- 
swer came;  but  as  Silvia  ventured  one  step  forward  in 
that  silent  room,  there  came  to  her  a  faint  perfume  of 
almonds. 

She  put  the  cup  down  and  went  to  the  chair.  One 
glance  at  that  ghastly  face  was  quite  enough.  With  a 
cry  that  seemed  to  echo  through  that  silent  house,  Silvia 
ran  down  to  Lady  Leeson's  room. 

"  You  cannot  come  in,"  said  the  maid;  "  my  lady  is 

J  •  M 

dressing. 

But  Silvia  hastily  pushed  past  her.  Lady  Leeson  look- 
ed up  with  a  face  of  alarm. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Mrs.  Rymer?  "  she  asked. 

Silvia  tried  to  speak,  but  the  shock  and  the  fright  had 
been  to  great  for  her ;  she  raised  her  hand  and  fell  faint- 
ing at  Lady  Leeson's  feet. 


188  THBOWN    ON    THE   WOBLD. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 
SILVIA'S   DISCLOSURE. 

THE  countess  looked  at  he*r  maid  in  great  perplexity. 

"  Surely  this  is  very  strange,"  she  said,  "  to  rush  into 
•ny  room  and  faint  at  my  feet  in  this  way.  It  is  very 
-ilike  Mrs.  Rymer.  Call  some  one  to  help  you,  Frascr." 

Another  maid  was  called,  and  they  raised  Silvia  and 
placed  her  on  a  chair. 

"  I  cannot  understand  it,"  said  Lady  Leeson.  "  It  is  so 
unlike  Mrs.  Rymer." 

Suddenly  another  idea  occurred  to  her.  She  turned  to 
her  maid  with  a  pale,  scared  face. 

"  It  can  never  be,"  she  said,  "  that  anything  has 
happened  to  Lady  lanthe.  Go  to  her  room,  Fraser.  Tell 
her  that  I  want  her." 

The  countess  sat  waiting,  frightened,  she  knew  not 
why,  when  another  terrible  cry  came  from  that  room. 

She  rose  from  her  seat  pale,  trembling. 

"  Something  has  happened,"  she  said.  She  went  to  the 
door  of  her  room.  Lord  Leeson  was  hastily  ascending 
the  staircase. 

"  What  does  all  this  noise  mean  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Have 
all  your  maids  gone  crazy  together?  " 

"There  is  something  wrong,"  said  the  countess,  \vith 
clasped  hands,  "  and  I  am  afraid  it  is  in  Linthe's  room." 

"  They  have  seen  a  mouse  or  heard  one,"  said  the  eari, 
impatiently.  "  It  is  nothing  worse,  I  am  sure." 

But  the  words  died  on  his  lips  as  he  saw  Fraser,  his 
•wife's  maid.  Fraser  was  a  staid,  sensible  woman,  not 
inclined  to  nervous  fears. 

"Oh!  my  lord,"  she  said,  "pray  take  my  lady  away, 
something  terrible  has  occurred." 

Lord  Leeson  was  warmly  attached  to  his  wife,  but  in 
this  moment  of  anxiety  he  quite  lost  sight  of  her. 

**  Is  it  Lady  lanthe  ? "  he  asked  ;  and  the  woman  re- 
plied with  a  burst  of  passionate  hysterical  tears. 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  189 

Lord  Leeson  pushed  the  weeping  woman  aside,  and 
ran  up  to  his  daughter's  room.  His  wife  heard  one  terri- 
fied cry  of,  O,  my  God !  "  and  then  a  painful  silence. 

She  would  have  followed  him,  but  Silvia,  who  had  by 
this  time  recovered,  took  her  by  the  arm. 

"  Do  not  go  there,  Lady  Leeson,"  she  said ;  "  come 
back  to  your  own  room." 

Unresisting,  haggard,  silent,*  the  poor  lady  did  as  Silvia 
wished.  She  sat  down  and  looked  at  her,  with  a  face 
that  was  terrible  to  see. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  is  the  matter,  Mrs.  Ryrner  ?  " 
she  said.  "  I  could  never  bear  suspense.  What  has 
happened  to  my  daughter?  She  is  not  ill.  Last  night  I 
kissed  her  beautiful  face  and  she  was  well.  Has  she  — 
has  she  run  away  —  perhaps  I  pressed  her  rather  too 
hardly — has  she  run  away  ?  " 

If  it  only  had  been  that ! 

"  No,"  replied  Silvia,  gently.  "  Lady  Leeson,  /  cannot 
tell  you,  you  had  better  hear  it  from  your  husband's  lips." 

The  gray  shade  that  came  over  her  face  was  terrible  to 
see. 

"  Is  she  ill— de-id  ?  Oh!  Mrs.  Rymer,  tell  me  !  She 
is  dead;  I  know  by  that  look  on  your  face.  Oh,  my 
child!  my  darling!  " 

Over  such  a  scene  draw  a  veil.  Lady  Leeson  was  a 
brilliant,  worldly  woman,  but  she  dearly  loved  her  daugh- 
ter— how  dearly  she  did  not  know  until  death  stepped  in 
and  took  her  only  child  from  her. 

"Have  I  driven  her  to  death?  "  she  asked,  with  such 
wild  eyes  that  Silvia  answered  at  random : 

"No;  it  is  an  accident.  Nothing  more  dreadful  than 
-a  accident." 

The  confusion  and  despair  that  reigned  in  that  luxuri- 
ous mansion  was  something  terrible  to  remember,  impos- 
sible to  forget.  Doctors,  servants,  friends,  all  in  the  wild- 
est confusion ;  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  Lady 
lanthe  had  been  dead  for  hours. 

While  the  earl  was  alone  with  his  wife,  trying  his  best 
to  comfort  and  console  her,  Silvia  stole  back  to  the  room 
where  the  beautiful,  silent  figure  was  lying. 

She  unfastened  the  golden  chain  from  the  white  neck 


190  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 

and,  with  the  wedding-ring,  took   it  away.     She  kissed 
the  lovely  face,  so  glorious  in  its  marble  beauty. 

"  I  will  keep  your  secret  for  you,  dear,"  she  said — 
"  the  secret  of  your  most  unhappy  love." 

Then  it  occurred  to  her  that  hhe  had  better  go  at  once 
to  Mr.  Raymond,  and  tell  him  what  had  passed  before  hr 
had  an  opportunity  of  hearing  it  from  others.  Now  thn: 
the  young  life  had  ended,  it  seemed  to  Silvia  that  she 
ought  to  take  every  precaution  that  the  secret  for  which 
she  had  died  should  be  kept. 

In  the  hurry  and  confusion  it  was  not  probable  that 
any  one  would  notice  her  absence,  and  she  knew  that  if 
those  dead  lips  could  have  spoken,  their  first  command 
would  have  been  :  "  Go  to  him." 

She  left  the  house  unnoticed,  and  unobserved.  She 
went  again  to  the  cab  stand,  and  told  a  driver  to  take  her 
to  Grosvenor  Street. 

Mr.  Raymond  was  still  at  home — it  was  not  much  after 
noon.  The  confusion,  the  terror,  the  dismay,  that  take 
so  long  to  describe,  were  soon  over:  the  death  of  our 
nearest  and  dearest  often  passes  in  the  shortest  space  of 
time. 

The  landlady  looked  at  her  a  trifle  more  dubiously  this 
time  ;  it  seemed  to  her  there  must  be  something  strange 
in  this  speedy  return. 

"  You  want  Mr.  Raymond  again  ? "  she  said.  "  He  is 
in  his  room  ;  he  has  finished  breakfast,  and  is  going  out, 
I  think." 

Silvia  went  to  the  breakfast-room. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  voice  she  remembered  so  well ; 
bnt  when  she  did  enter  the  room,  that  gentleman  regard- 
ed her  with  no  very  pleasant  expression  of  face. 

"  Mrs.  Rymer,"  he  said,  "  a  most  unexpected  visit." 

Silvia  was  in  no  humor  for  wasting  words. 

"  I  am  far  more  sorry  to  come,"  she  said,  "  than  you 
can  possibly  be  to  see  me." 

She  drew  back  her  veil,  for  the  very  air  of  the  room 
seemed  oppressive  to  her.  He  saw  the  white  face,  with 
its  expression  of  anguish  and  terror. 

"  Another  complication,"  he  said.  "  What  has  hap- 
pened now  ?  " 


THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD.  l9l 

"  The  best  thing  possible  for  you,"  she  replied,  bitter- 
jy,  "  and  the  worst  for  her." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  impatiently. 

Silvia  laid  the  little  golden  chain,  with  the  wedding 
ring  on  it,  before  him. 

"  Lady  lanthe  will  trouble  you  no  more,"  she  said, 
solemnly.  "  You  are  free  to  marry,  to  woo,  to  love  as 
you  will." 

His  face  lighted  with  satisfaction. 

"  She  has  decided  wisely,"  he  said  ;  "  it  is  painful,  but 
it  is  the  wisest  course." 

"  Lady  lanthe  did  not  decide  as  you  think,"  replied 
Silvia,  with  ill-concealed  contempt ;  she  was  more  indig- 
nant than  ever  I  can  describe  that  you  should  dare  to 
hint  at  such  a  proceeding  to  her.  Whatever  you  may 
say,  she  considered  the  marriage  binding  before  God  and 
man.  She  would  not  hear  of  anything  else." 

The  handsome  face  grew  pale,  and  an  impatient  frown 
came  over  the  broad  brow. 

"  What  does  she  intend  to  do,  then  ?  What  does  she 
propose  ?  " 

u  She  proposes  nothing,"  replied  the  solemn  voice ; 
"  she  means  to  do  nothing.  She  has  left  you  free." 

"  I  cannot  understand  you,  Mrs.  Bymer.  I  am  not 
good  at  puzzles." 

"  Tour  letter  killed  her,"  said  Silvia.  "  It  was  her 
death-warrant." 

He  sunk  back  white  and  breathless. 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Lady  lanthe  is  dead  f  * ' 

"  I  rnsan.  what  I  say,"  said  Silvia  ;  "  your  letter  killed 
her.  When  she  most  needed  your  love,  when  she  most 
relied  upon  it,  when  it  stood  between  her  and  despair, 
wli^n  it  was  her  only  hope  and  refuge,  you  took  it  from 
hjr,  ;ftid  made  the  basest  proposal  man  ever  made." 

He  did  not  offer  to  stop  that  torrent  of  indignant 
words. 

"  You  forgot  she  was  a  pure,  proud  woman,  mistaken 
in  her  love  for  you,  but  in  every  other  respect  worthy  of 
a  man's  most  devoted  love.  You  forgot  that  when  you 
made  such  an  insulting  proposal  to  her." 


192  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 

"  Dead !  "  he  repeated.  "  Mrs.  Rymer,  I  cannot  be- 
lieve it.  How  did  she  die  ?  " 

He  asked  the  question  in  fear  and  trembling,  she  saw 
that. 

"  Her  death,  as  the  great  and  fatal  event  of  her  life 
— her  unfortunate  marriage  must  remain  a  secret  between 
us,"  she  said.  "  The  world  will  think  she  took  an  over- 
dose of  medicine  —  I  tell  you  she  poisoned  herself." 

"  Poisoned  herself !  "  he  gasped.  "  Oh,  Mrs.  Rymei\ 
it  cannot  be  !  " 

"  It  is  the  truth,"  she  replied  ;  and  then  she  gave  him 
the  history  of  her  night's  conversation — her  pleading,  her 
entreaties ;  she  did  not  spare  him  one  single  word.  She 
told  him  everything  Lady  lanthe  had  said,  and  no  com- 
passion for  him  arose  in  her  heart,  when  she  saw  the  tears 
in  his  eyes. 

"  So  that  you  see,"  she  continued,  "  your  letter  killed 
her  ;  it  drove  her  mad,  and  she  destroyed  herself.  You 
failed  her  in  her  hour  of  utmost  need,  and  that  failure 
has  slain  her." 

She  felt  no  pity  for  him  even  when  he  bowed  his  head 
on  his  hands  and  wept  most  passionate  tears. 


CHAPTER  XL1Y. 

A   LETTER   FROM   THE   DEAD. 

SILVIA  sat  watching  Clifford  Raymond  in  silence. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity,"  she  said,  "  that  one  spark  of  that 
compassion  did  not  animate  you  before." 

"Do  not  be  hard  on  me,  Mrs.  Rymer,"  he  said;  "I 
am  wretched  enough,  God  knows.  I  did  not  expect  this, 
nor  did  I  ever  dream  it  would  happen." 

"  A  man  never  knows  where  his  evil  deeds  will  end," 
said  Silvia.  "  Yours  began  when  you  pursnaded  Lady 
lanthe  to  take  that  most  foolish  step  of  a  private  mar- 
riage ;  the  most  cruel  deed  was  when  you  wrote  her  that 
letter.  If  I  had  known  its  contents,  I  would  have  burned 
both  my  hands  off  before  I  would  have  touched  it. 
How  could  you  do  it  t  " 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.    ,  193 

"  D )  not  reproach  me,"  he  cried  ;  "  I  shall  never  know 
another  happy  moment — my  life  is  all  mined." 

"  You  do  not  deserve  happiness,"  said  Silvia.  "  Your 
life  is  no  more  valuable  than  the  one  your  cruelty  has 
destroyed.  If  you  were  happy,  Heaven  would  not  be 
just."" 

"  But  I  am  not  alone  in  being  what  you  call  wicked," 
he  said. 

"  Why  am  I  so  severely  punished?  " 

"  D  >  not  ask  me  questions  that  will  he  answered  for 
you  in  another  world,"  she  said.  "  All  that  you  can 
suffer  will  be  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  anguish 
that  brought  Lady  Ian  the  to  her  death." 

He  turned,  shuddering,  away ;  but  she  saw  him  take 
the  ring  and  slip  it  on  his  finger ;  then  she  rose  from 
her  seat. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  be  wanted.  I 
oamo,  Mr.  Raymond  to  tell  you  how  strictly  your  coward- 
ly wish  shall  be  carried  out — that  the  secret  shall  be  most 
faithfully  kept.  Lady  Ian  the  made  me  take  last  night 
the  most  solemn  oath  that  she  could  devise  that  I  would 
never  botray  it,  and  I  never  will." 

She  could  not  help  seeing  the  cowardly  relief  in  his 
face. 

"  Do  you  know  what  she  did  with  my  letters  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  No ;  but  you  may  rely  upon  one  thing,  she  who 
was  so  careful  over  the  secret  has  left  no  trace  of  it. 
Your  letters  are  destroyed,  you  may  take  my  word  for  it, 
but,  to  make  doubly  sure,  I  will  look  myself.  Your  ring 
is  here.  Your  secret  is  safe.  No  one  will  ever  know 
how  Lady  lanthe  loved  or  how  she  died." 

He  looked  somewhat  ashamed. 

"  Mrs.  Rymer,"  he  said,  "  did   you  read  my  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  I  read  it ;  and  if  I  thought  any  good  result 
could  follow,  I  would  tell  you  what  I  thought  of  it;  but 
all  reproach,  all  recrimination  is  vain." 

"  Thank  you  for  sparing  me,"  he  said  humbly. 

"  Do  not  thank  me.  If  I  could  do  poor  Lady  lanthe 
the  least  good,  I  would  pursue  you  until  death ;  but  I 
cannot,  and  for  her  sake  your  secret  will  remain  untold. 


194  •  THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD. 

I  can  only  hope  tlmt.  in  tin's  world  we  may  never  meet 
again.  1  have  no  r« :--p  •<•{  or  liking  for  you." 

With  those  words  she  left  him,  and  it  may  be  surmised 
that  his  reflections  were  not  of  the  most  agreeable  kind. 
Silvia  hastened  to  Dale  House — she  had  not  been  missed  ; 
the  earl  was  still  with  his  unhappy  wife  ;  the  servants 
still  in  confusion.  Outside  the  house  several  people  had 
congregated.  Rumors  of  the  terrible  tragedy  had  spread. 

The  beautiful  Lady  Ian  the  Leeson,  one  of  the  belles  of 
the  season,  one  of  the  loveliest  girls  in  London,  had 
accidentally  poisoned  herself — had  taken  an  overdose  of 
some  medicine  that  contained  strong  poison. 

At  first  people  were  incredulous.  "  It  was  impossible ; 
it  must  be  a  false  rumor;  it  could  not  be  trne;  Lady 
lanthe  dead !  Lady  lanthe  poisoned  !  who  conld  credit 
it  ?  "  Carriage  after  carriage  dashed  up  to  the  door.  One 
inquiry  after  another  poured  in,  but  Lord  Leeson  saw  no 
one.  All  visitors  were  referred  to  Mrs.  Rymer. 

She  had  but  one  formula.  "  Lady  lanthe  had  unfortun- 
ately taken  an  overdose  of  medic-ine  that  contained  a 
strong  solution  of  prnssic  acid.  She,  either  not  knowing 
or  not  understanding  the  strength  of  it,  had  taken  too 
much.''  No  one  doubted  tho  story.  So  young,  so  beauti- 
ful, so  highly  gifted,  sought  in  marriage,  as  every  one 
knew  she  was,  by  one  of  the  wealthiest  peers  in  England, 
it  was  absurd  to  imagine  anything  wrong ;  indeed,  the 
idea  did  not  occur  to  any  one.  Sympathy,  pity,  con- 
dolences were  lavished  upon  the  unhappy  family,  but  no 
one  even  hinted  or  suspected  there  was  anything  wrong. 

When  she  conld  ppare  time,  Silvia  hastened  to  the 
room  where  ;tll  that  was  mortal  of  poor  Lady  lanthe  lay. 
She  looked  in  the  drawers,  the  desks,  in  every  possible 
receptacle,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  any  letters. 

"  She  destroyed  them,"  thought  Silvia  ;  "  few  secrets 
have  boon  better  kept  than  her*.'" 

Looking  around,  six;  found  what  she  had  not  seen  be- 
fore a  note,  :n!dn*>e«l  to  Lord  MonfoH.  Would  that 
contain  a  revelation  of  the  secret  or  not?  She  held  it  in 
her  hands.  If  in  it  the  secret  should  be  told,  what  de- 
spair and  anguish  would  it  not  cause ! 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  195 

Still,  she  must  deliver  it.  She  took  it  to  Lord  Leesom 
and  told  him  she  wanted  to  see  him  particularly.  His 
haggard  face  almost  frightened  her. 

*'  What  do  you  want,  Mrs.  Romer?  "  he  asked  despair- 
ingly- 

"  I  found  this  in  Lady  Lanthe's  room,  my  lord,  and  I 
thought  it  my  duty  to  bring  it  to  you." 

He  took  it  from  her  hand  and  read  the  address. 

"  To  Lord  Monford,"  he  said.  "  If  Lord  Monford 
calls  I  will  see  him.'* 

The  words  seemed  to  be  almost  prophetic.  Silvia  had 
not  left  many  minutes  before  a  message  was  brought, 
saying  that  Lord  Monford  wished  to  see  her  at  once  in 
the  library.  Then  she  went  in,  her  whole  heart  yearned 
to  him,  his  face  was  so  sad,  and  so  full  of  untold  anguish. 

"  Mrs.  Rymer,"  he  said,  in  a  broken  voice,  "  I  hardly 
care  to  ask  you  if  this  awful  news  is  true." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  ;  "  there  is  no  use  disguising  one 
word  of  the  truth." 

"  I  have  only  just  heard  it,"  he  continued  ;  "  and  I 
think  it  will  kill  me.  Only  God  knew  how  I  loved  her. 

Will  you  tell  me  how  it  happened  ? " 

Keep  the  secret,  Silvia,  keep  it  still ;  if  the  man  who 
loved  her  knew  it,  he  would  slay  the  man  who  betrayed 
her,  in  her  terrible  need,  and  left  her  without  the  frailest 
plank  between  herself  and  the  dark  waters  of  ruin  that 
ingulfed  her. 

Once  more  she  went  through  the  story.  Lord  Mon- 
ford listened  without  comment.  Looking  up  at  him, 
suddenly,  she  read  disbelief  in  his  face. 

"  The  earl  wished  to  see  you,"  she  said  simply.  "  Shall 
I  tell  him  you  are  here  ?  " 

There  was  something  touching  in  the  silent  grasp  of 
the  hand  with  which  the  two  gentlemen  met. 

"  You  have  heard  ? "  said  the  earl,  and  he  made  no 
effort  to  disguise  the  tears. 

"  I  have  heard,"  was  the  grave  reply  ;  "  bnt  I  cannot 
believe  it  yet.  I  am  too  shocked,  too  horrified,  even  to 
be  able  to  think  clearly.  I  left  her  quite  well  last  night, 
and  now  they  tell  me  she  is  dead." 

"  1    can    hardly   realize   it   myself,"    said    the    earl, 


196  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  though  I  know  it  to  be  true.  Lord  Mori  ford,  this  was 
found  in  my  daughter's  room.  Will  you  read  it?  " 

Lord  Monford  took  the  note,  opened  it,  and  read  it. 

"  Who  told  your  daughter  of  the  money  transactions 
between  us  ? "  he  asked  sadly. 

"  Lady  Leeson  in  the  first  instance — I  mentioned  them 
in  the  second." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  only  natural  that  you  should  do  so.  I 
hope,  however,  that  it  would  not  have  influenced  her.  I 
do  not  miite  understand  the  tone  of  her  letter." 

Lord  Monford  gave  it  to  the  earl,  who  read  it. 

"  My  dear  Lord  Monford,"  it  ran,  "  I  have  only  lately  become 
aware  of  the  money  debt  under  which  my  dear  father,  the  earl,  lies 
to  you.  I  have  known  nothing  of  his  money  troubles,  and  I  regret 
it  now.  Life  has  only  seemed  to  me  like  a  pleasant  dream  ;  this 
is  one  of  the  stern  realities  I  have  never  known.  My  lord,  you 
have  done  me  a  great  honor  to  say  that  you  love  me.  For  that 
love's  sake  I  appeal  to  you.  Be  kind  and  generous  to  my  dear 
father.  I  do  not  understand  money  matters,  but  my  mother  tells 
me  if  he  were  not  compelled  to  pay  this  money  at  once  he  would 
hi  a  few  years'  time  retrieve  his  position.  My  lord,  you  say 
you  love  me— grant  me  the  first  favor  I  have  ever  asked  from  you 
—  a  grace  that  I  solicit  on  my  knees  —  do  not  cull  this  money  in 
until  my  father  is  ready  to  pay  it.  I  have  looked  so  often  at  your 
face  lately;  it  is  a  kindly  one;  you  can  be  generous ;  be  generous 
to  me.  I  urge  my  prayer  upon  you.  I  send  it  with  you ;  wher- 
ever you  may  go  I  bid  it  follow  you ;  and  I  have  a  lirm  hope,  a 
sure  conviction,  that  you  will  grant  it." 

Lord  Leeson  read  the  note  through;  it  fell  from  his 
hands  to  the  floor. 

"  My  darling !  "  he  cried,  my  dear,  lost  darling !  I  did 
not  think  she  troubled  so  deeply  over  my  misfortunes." 

"  Did  she  speak  much  of  them  ?  "  asked  Lord  Mon- 
ford. 

"  No ;  even  though  I  explained  them  to  her,  I  had  an 
idea  that  she  did  not  understand  them.  She  had  never 
once,  during  her  whole  life,  heard  the  word  trouble  men- 
tioned." 


THROWN   ON    THE    WOULD.  197 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

A    GENEROUS    ACT. 

LORD  MONFORD  took  up  the  letter  and  read  it  again. 
"  There  are  two  ways  of  looking  at  this  letter,"  he  said. 
"  Either  your  daughter  loved  me,  and  wanted  this  prom- 
ise from  me,  this  money  affair  settled  before  anything 
was  said  of  love  or  marriage,  or — " 

He  stopped  short  for  a  moment,  and  looked  at  the 
paper  again. 

"  Or,"  he  continued,  "  she  did  not  love  me,  and  she 
has  sooner  embraced  death  than  consent  to  be  my  wife. 
"Which  is  it,  Lord  Leeson  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  indeed ;  you  know  quite  as  much 
of  the  affair  as  I  do." 

"  But  you  know  whether  she  looked  upon  my  proposal 
favorably  or  not,"  said  Lord  Monford. 

Now  the  earl  had  certainly  loved  his  daughter  very 
dearly — no  one  more  so ;  he  was  overwhelmed  with  grief 
at  losing  her,  yet,  through  all  his  love  and  all  his  sorrow, 
he  retained  a  keen  instinct  of  his  worldly  interests.  He 
was  a  gentleman,  and  would  not  speak  falsely;  at  the 
same  time  he  feared  to  compromise  his  interests. 

"  Why  should  she  object  to  such  an  offer  as  yours?  " 
he  said. 

"  You  would  have  made  her  a  good  husband.  You 
would  have  given  her  wealth,  position — all  that  a  woman 
wants  or  values;  why,  then,  should  she  object?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  he  replied  sadly.  "  Women  are  rid- 
dles." 

"  Even  had  she  objected,"  continued  the  earl,  she 
most  surely  would  have  said  so  ;  we  have  been  very  kind 
indulgent  parents  to  her.  There  was  no  attempt  to  force 
her  inclinations.  If  she  objected  she  had  but  to  say  so 
and  we  should  have  complied  with  any  wish  she  express- 
ed. It  would  be  absurd  even  to  imagine  that  she  would 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

kill  herself  rather  than  he  yonr  wife.     No  alternative  of 
anv  kind  was  placed  before  her." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Lord  Monford.  "  It  was 
left,  then,  to  her  own  free  choice  whether  she  married 
me  or  not?  " 

"  My  Lord  Monford,"  replied  the  earl,  "  my  daugh- 
ter's choice  could  but  be  free.  Dismiss  all  thoughts  of 
anything  else  from  your  mind." 

"  Was  she  in  the  habit  of  taking  this  medicine  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  I  suppose  so.  The  doctors  say  it  is  an  accident  that 
might  have  happened  to  any  one.  I  do  not  understand 
why  you  take  this  morbid  view  of  the  case." 

"  I  cannot  quite  explain,  even  to  myself,"  said  Lord 
Monford.  "  1  am  haunted  by  a  melancholy  idea  that  if  I 
had  never  made  Lady  Ian  the  an  offer  of  marriage  she 
would  be  living  still." 

Lord  Leeson  raised  his  white  face  with  an  expression 
of  heartfelt  anguish. 

^  "  Do  you  think  so?  I  cannot  see  it ;  bnt  if  that  suspi- 
cion should  have  even  the  least  germ  of  truth  in  it,  I  join 
you  in  saying  that  the  hour  in  which  those  proposals 
were  made  was  the  most  unfortunate  in  my  life  or  yours. 
She  was  my  only  child,  and  I  loved  her  most  dearly." 

Lord  Monford  stood  with  the  letter  in  his  hands. 

"  People  say,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  that  I  am  a  mer- 
cenary man — that  I  love  money :  it  cannot  be  true,  for  I 
would  give  all  jny  wealth  twice  over,  if  such  a  thing 
could  be,  to  restore  this  fair  young  life." 

He  spoke  so  earnestly,  so  sadly,  that  the  earl  felt  every 
word  was  true.  Lord  Monford  turned  away  with  a  long, 
Icep  sigh. 

"  The  word  money  shall  never  be  mentioned  between 
us  again,"  he  said.  "  You  are  my  debtor,  it  is  true,  to  a 
large  amount,  and,  perhaps,  I  was  mercenary  and  cruel 
to  think  of  making  your  indebtedness  to  me  a  reason 
why  you  should  influence  your  daughter's  love  in  my 
behalf.  But  I  am  punished  for  my  ein,  and  the  punish- 
ment is  almost  heavier  than  I  can  bear.  Lot  it  end  here 
Lord  Leeson ;  I  am  not  in  want  of  the  money.  I  .shall 
give  orders  that  it  remain  where  it  is,  and,  while  I  live 


THROWN  ON  THE  WOBLD.  109 

the  payment  of  the  interest  will  suffice;  after  my  death 
— however,  I  will  say  no  more ;  but  there  shall  remain 
between  us  this  understanding  —  that  repayment  of  that 
money  shall  never  cost  yon  one  anxious  moinuiit." 

The  earl  grasped  Lord  Monford  by  the  hand. 

"  You  are  magnificently  generous,  my  Lord,"  he  cried. 

An  expression  of  deep  pain  came  over  Lord  Monford's 
face. 

"  Nay,  I  am  not  generous,"  he  said ;  "  if  I  had  been  I 
should  never  have  done  as  I  did — made  my  love  and  my 
money  one.  I  am  anything  but  generous  in  this  case.  I 
am  simply  just.  I  asked  for  her  love  in  payment,  and  she 
has  given  her  life.  I  shall  never  divest  myself  of  that 
idea." 

"  It  is  even  more  painful  to  me  than  to  you,"  said  the 
earl,  and  then  Lord  Monford  rose,  to  intimate  that  the 
interview  was  over. 

"  I  shall  go  abroad,"  he  said,  abruptly.  "  England, 
and  London  above  all,  will  be  most  hateful  to  me.  Per- 
haps, when  I  return,  I  may  see  you  again." 

The  earl  felt  relieved.  He  would  hardly  have  cared 
himself  to  have  met  the  man,  whom  he  honestly  believed 
say  what  he  would,  to  be  accountable  for  his  daughter's 
death.  He  murmured  some  few  words  about  the  countess, 
but  Lord  Monford  interrupted  him. 

"  Give  to  the  countess,"  he  said,  "  my  sympathy  ;  use 
words  warm  and  kindly  as  you  will,  they  will  not  express 
my  meaning  too  kindly;  my  whole  heart  aches  for  Lady 
Leeson,  in  this  her  terrible  loss." 

And  then  Lord  Monford  went  away.  If  he  had  only 
acted  a  few  short  weeks  ago  generously  as  he  acted  now 
there  would  have  been  one  great  crime  saved. 

Neither  Lord  nor  Lady  Leeson  kept  up  any  appearance 
of  reserve  before  Mrs.  Rymer  now — they  spoke  before 
her  openly  on  all  matters;  she  seemed  almost  to  have 
taken  the  dead  daughter's  place.  What  they  would  have 
done  without  her  in  that  house  of  mourning  no  one  could 
tell.  She  was  a  gleam  of  sunshine ;  a  ray  of  hope,  an 
angel  of  consolation.  She  alone  could  control  Lady 
Leeson  when  the  intensity  of  her  despair  mastered  her. 
She  alone  could  utter  a  few  words  of  comfort  that 


200  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

brought  something  like  ease  and  rest  to  the  sorely-aching 
heart.  She  alone  could  speak  of  the  beautiful  dead  girl 
in  such  terms,  that  even  while  her  words  caused  the 
mother's  tears  to  flow  afresh,  they  brought  some  little 
solace  to  the  burning  pain  that  seemed  to  eat  away  life 
itself.  She  heard  Lord  Leeson  relate  to  his  wife  the 
conversation  he  had  just  had  with  Lord  MOD  ford.  Her 
heart  ached  as  she  listened  ;  it  seemed  to  her  that  this 
was  exactly  what  she  had  imagined  of  him.  Oh  !  if  Lady 
lanthe  would  but  have  appealed  first  to  his  generosity. 
Yet,  even  then  she  would  not  have  been  saved.  It  was 
not  because  Lord  JVIonford  wished  to  marry  her  that  she 
had  died.  It  was  her  lover's  perfidy  that  had  killed  her, 
and  of  this  perfidy  no  living  creature  knew  the  secret 
except  herself. 

"  Silvia,  Silvia!  "  cried  Lady  Leeson,  in  her  agony  of 
despair,  "  you  know  all  about  it.  Tell  me,  do  you  think 
it  was  through  my  importunity,  my  prayers,  and  my 
persuasions  that  my  darling  died  ?  " 

Silvia  went  to  her;  she  tried  to  raise  the  crouching 
figure  ;  she  took  the  cold  hands  in  hers. 

"  Will  you  believe  me  ?  "  she  said.  "  Lady  Leeson, 
will  you  believe  that  you  have  no  reason  to  blame  your- 
self, no  cause  for  remorse? — and  I  who  value  truth  so 
highly,  would  not  say  this  to  you  if  it  were  not  true." 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

A  WOMAN'S  REFLECTIONS. 

FASHIONABLE  London  had  never  been  more  shocked, 
more  horrified  ;  it  positively  grew  serious,  and,  for  a  few 
minutes  at  least,  thought  of  a  better  world.  To  die  so 
young,  so  beautiful,  so  beloved,  with  the  fairest  of  pros- 
pects opening  to  her,  with  the  world  at  her  feet,  with 
every  bright  and  fair  gift  of  life  lavished  upon  her  —  it 
seemed  too  terrible. 

Only  twenty-four  hours  since,  and  she  had  been  seen 
in  their  midst,  her  lovely  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  lovers 
hanging  on  every  word,  radiant,  bright,  peerless,  and 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  201 

now  she  had  gone  from  among  them  forever  !  It  seemed 
almost  impossible  to  realize  t!ie  fact  that  the  face  of  the 
beautiful  Lady  lanthe  would  shine  in  their  midst  no 
more — that  the  graceful  figure  lay  still  and  shrouded  in 
death.  Fair-faced  girls  grew  grave  and  silent  as  they 
thought  of  it ;  even  those  who  discuss  everything  lightly, 
and  have  little  reverence  for  anything  sacred  or  holy, 
talked  of  this  tragedy  with  sorrow  that  was  expressed 
both  in  looks  and  words.  Men  of  the  world  deplored 
the  loss  of  a  young  and  lovely  woman  ;  women  of  the 
world,  with  pale,  scared  faces,  remembered  how  death 
was,  after  all,  busy  in  their  midst,  and  that  nothing  could 
save  them  from  his  clutches. 

Of  the  real  truth,  not  one  syllable  was  ever  rumored ; 
the  poor  girl's  secret  was  most  faithfully  kept.  Of  the 
hundreds  that  had  admired  her,  who  had  sought  her 
smiles  and  boasted  proudly  of  one  word  from  her,  there 
was  not  one  who  suspected  that  she — beautiful  as  a  god- 
dess, proud  as  a  queen — was  the  wife  of  man  who  dia 
carded  her,  who  had  asked  her  to  let  their  secret  mar- 
riage remain  a  profound  and  shameful  secret  from  all  the 
world ! 

No  one  would  have  believed  such  a  story  had  it  been 
told  ;  it  would  have  been  laughed  at  as  the  most  foolish 
of  rumors.  As  for  the  word  suicide,  no  one  ever  dreamed 
of  it  in  connection  with  one  so  young  and  so  beautiful  as 
the  Lady  lanthe. 

There  was  no  denying  that  the  death  of  the  earl's  fair 
daughter  had  thrown  a  gloom  over  the  season.  Royal 
lips  spoke  words  of  kindest  sympathy  to  the  bereaved 
parents  —  words  full  of  kindly,  courtly  grace  and  win- 
ning sweetness.  It  was  all  so  sad  — to  die  so  young,  in 
such  a  fashion,  so  terribly  sudden,  without,  it  was  sup- 
posed, time  to  breathe  a  prayer;  and  the  same  accident 
might  overtake  any  one  of  them  !  Grave-faced  matrons 
said  it  was  really  a  warning  against  taking  those  strong 
poisonous  medicines — they  might  be  very  efficacious,  but 
then  an  accident  was  so  fatal  !  The  most  annoying  part 
of  the  business,  to  one  who  studied  human  nature,  was, 
that  while  every  one  found  a  moral  and  warning,  that 


202  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

moral  and  a  warning  was  sure  to  fit  some  one  else,  and 
not  themselves! 

Of  the  passionate  love  and  passionate  sorrow,  of  the 
scorching  shame  and  burning  anguish,  of  the  blitrht  that 
had  fallen  over  the  fair  young  life,  and  had  withered  it 
as  a  breath  of  poison  destroys  a  fair  flower,  who  knew, 
who  could  say  one  word  ?  The  sweet,  sad  tragedy,  the 
happy  love-dream  that  had  begun  so  sweetly  and  had  end- 
ed so  tragically !  Has  every  life  such  secrets?  You  who 
smile, and  sing,  and  dance,  have  you  a  tragedy  bitter  as 
scorn,  cruel  as  death  ?  Have  your  eyes  wept  burning 
tears,  and  your  heart  broken  slowly  with  its  burden  of 
intolerable  pain  ? 

"Olife!"  cries  the  poet,  "is  this  all  thy  song  —  en- 
dure and  die?  " 

The  bright,  sunny  morning  came  when  the  mourning 
procession  was  to  start  for  Leesdale.  The  earl  and  the 
countess  could  not  endure  the  thought  of  burying  their 
daughter  in  London  ;  the  beautiful  body  must  be  taken 
to  the  stately  home  where  the  Leesons  for  long  genera- 
tions had  slept. 

"  She  is  the  last  of  our  race,"  said  they,  one  to  an- 
other, "  and  great  honors  shall  be  paid  to  her." 

She  was  not  to  sleep  in  the  dark  vault  where  earls  and 
countesses  without  number  slept ;  but  out  in  the  green, 
sunny  park,  where  the  sweet  wind  of  Heaven  blew  freely, 
where  the  birds  sung  and  the  flowers  bloomed,  an  exqui- 
site white  marble  mausoleum  was  raised,  and  the  fairest 
of  the  Leesons  slept  therein. 

No  one  will  ever  forget  that  funeral  who  saw  it.  If 
sunshine,  music,  and  perfume  could  have  robbed  death  of 
its  bitterness,  there  would  have  been  but  little  left,  for 
the  sun  had  never  been  more  bright  or  earth  more  fair. 

When  it  was  over,  and  the  unhappy  countess  was  shut 
up  in  her  room — the  earl  had  locked  the  door  of  his  study, 
requesting  that  he  might  not  be  disturbed  —  when  the 
quiet  of  recent  death  and  funeral  gloom  still  lay  over  the 
sunlit  house,  Silvia  went  out  in  the  park  alone.  It  seem- 
ed eo  long  since  the  luxury  of  solitude  had  been  hers ; 
her  eyes  were  tilled  with  the  haunting  memory  of  sad 
faces ;  the  whispers  of  the  wind  seemed  to  mingle  with 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  203 

the  sighs  and  lamentations  that  of  late  had  surrounded 
her.  She  walked  on  through  the  broad  glades  of  tall 
trees,  where  the  sunlight  danced  on  the  grass,  and  the 
deer  bent  their  stately  heads  to  the  clear  pools  to  drink. 
The  flowers  were  full  of  fragrance ;  they  seemed  to  greet 
her  with  oderous  breath.  She  sat  down  and  rested  her 
head  against  the  tall,  rugged  stem  of  a  slender  birch, 
while  she  indulged  in  the  luxury  of  silent  thought. 

How  long  it  was  since  a  gleam  of  sunshine  and  fra- 
grance of  flowers  had  wooed  her ;  how  long  since  she  had 
walked  in  those  green  lanes  and  clover  meadow?,  listen- 
ing to  the  love  story  that  had  changed  all  the  world  for 
her  1  What  had  she  not  seen  and  heard  since  then  1 
What  cruel  lessons  had  not  life  taught  her  1  Was  there 
any  true  love,  any  manly  faith,  any  manly  honor?  Sit- 
ting there  in  the  sunshine  she  doubted  all  and  everything, 
except  the  mercy  and  goodness  of  Heaven. 

She  saw  greed  and  mercenary  motives  where  at  least 
she  would  have  expected  the  simplicity  of  honor.  She 
saw  self-interest  where  she  would  have  looked  for  love; 
ehe  saw  deceit  and  treachery  where  there  should  have 
been  good  faith  and  affection.  She  saw  even  red-handed 
murder  lurking  between  flowers,  and,  raising  her  hands 
and  her  eyes  with  a  passionate  cry  to  Heaven,  she  wept 
more  bitterly  than  she  had  wept  before. 

"  There  is  nothing  true,"  she  said.  "  When  I  was 
younger,  I  believed  in  everything,  and  in  every  one ; 
now  life  has  taught  me  that  E  must  not  believe,  and  I 
would  that  I  had  died  before  E  lost  my  faith." 

She  wondered  whether  retribution  overtook  the  wrong- 
doer. She  thought  of  Mr.  Thornton,  whose  cruelty  had 
broken  his  wife's  heart.  Her  wealth  enriched  him ;  life 
held  nothing  but  pleasure  for  him.  He  had  married 
that  gentle,  hapless  lady  solely  for  her  money,  and,  hav- 
ing secured  it,  he  had  slowly,  deliberately,  and  willfully 
tortured  her  to  death — not  by  poison  or  blows,  but  by 
the  slow  aid  of  cruelty  and  neglect,  he  had  sinned  his  sin. 
Would  he  now  reap  his  reward?  Was  he,  with  her 
money,  to  marry  the  beautiful  woman  he  loved,  and  pass 
the  remainder  of  his  days  happy  as  a  poet  in  a  drea»n  ? 


204  TIIRO\VN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

Her  face  flushed  at  the  thought.  She  did  not  remem- 
ber that  even  the  wisest  of  men  sees  but  a  short  distance 
before  him,  and  that  the  future  is  known  only  to  the 
great  and  most  wise  God.  She  did  not  know  that,  sooner 
or  later,  retribution  overtakes  every  one  ;  every  single 
crime  is  punished,  every  wrong  redressed,  let  men  say  or 
think  blindly  what  they  will. 

How  would  it  be  with  Clifford  Raymond — he  who  had 
courted  this  beautiful  wild  flower,  who  had  grasped  it  at 
any  cost,  and  then,  fearing  the  penalty  he  must  pay  for 
gathering  it,  had  flung  it  away  ?  The  girl  he  had  sacri- 
ficed to  his  love  had  died  with  shame  and  anguish.  How 
would  it  fare  with  him  ? 

His  secret  would  be  safe,  undoubtedly,  quite  safe, 
nothing  could  ever  betray  it,  or  cause  it  to  be  betrayed. 
Would  honor  and  fame  be  his  —  wealth,  ease  and  com- 
petence ;  perhaps,  in  the  years  to  come,  the  love  of 
women  and  children  ?  Could  it  be  so? 

Again  her  face  flushed,  and  her  eyes  flashed  with  in- 
dignation ;  again  she  forgot  that,  although  man  sees  the 
beginning,  God  alone  sees  the  end. 

What  of  her  own  love —  the  man  she  had  worshipped 
so  truly,  the  man  to  whom  she  had  given  the  whole  of 
her  heart ;  who  had  deceived  her  more  cruelly  than  ever 
woman  was  deceived — what  of  him  ? 

Somewhere  in  this  bright  world  he  was  living,  pros- 
perous and  happy ;  perhaps  beloved  by  some  one  fairer, 
better-born  than  herself.  He  had  suffered  nothing  for 
his  sin  —  never  would  suffer,  for  even  if  it  should  be 
known  in  the  world,  people  would  but  smile,  the  follies 
of  young  men  are  so  leniently  treated.  What  are  a 
woman's  broken  heart,  ruined  life,  blighted  name? 
They  only  resemble  the  scalps  that  Indian  braves  hang  at 
girdles — the  more  of  these  the  merrier. 

"  Is  there  no  law  for  women,"  thought  the  girl,  "  and 
another  for  men '(  Is  a  man's  sin  to  be  smiled  at,  glossed 
over,  made  little  of,  excused  in  every  way,  while  a  wom- 
an, for  the  same  sin,  must  forfeit  everything  she  holds 
dear  on  earth,  and  meet  with  nothing  but  scorn  and  con- 
tempt?" 


THROWN   ON   THE   WOBLD.  205 

No;  men  may  think  it  is  so,  but  the  grand,  immutable 
laws  of  God  were  made  for  soul,  and  not  for  sex. 

Silvia  Rymer  was  to  have  an  answer  to  all  her  problems 
yet. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

IN   A   NEW    HOME. 

THE  earl  and  countess  decided  upon  remaining  during 
the  summer  at  Leesdale  Park.  Lady  Leeson  said  to  her- 
self that  she  never  cared  about  seeing  London  again.  She 
did  not  know  how  much  of  her  life  had  been  bound  up 
in  that  of  her  daughter.  She  was  fearfully  changed. 
The  stately  figure  looked  as  though  long  and  sorrowful 
years  had  taken  away  its  comely,  matronly  beauty.  A 
terrible  blight  had  passed  over  her;  her  face  was  drawn 
and  haggard,  deep  linos  were  on  the  once  smooth  brow 
and  round  the  silent  lips;  life  was  over  for  the  once 
brilliant  Countess  o.  Leeson.  Money  troubles  had  ceased 
to  grieve  her;  but  the  wealth  of  the  whole  world  would 
have  given  her  but  little  pleasure  now  that  the  beautiful 
daughter,  for  whom  she  had  coveted  it,  was  no  longer 
here  to  enjoy  it. 

They  remained  at  the  Park  in  the  loneliest  seclusion, 
seeing  no  one,  admitting  no  visitors,  rarely  going  beyond 
the  grounds  ;  and  Silvia  saw  with  sorrow  that  the  earl's 
stately  head  drooped  lower  and  lower  each  day.  She  saw 
that  his  hair  grew  gray,  that  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
how  to  smile,  and  her  heart  ached  with  great  pity  for  him. 

She  did  her  best  to  cheer  and  amuse  him,  but  his  sor- 
row lay  too  deep  for  healing.  She  was  useful,  too,  in  a 
hundred  different  ways,  to  the  countess.  So  the  summer 
passed,  but  its  flowers  and  its  beauty  brought  no  healing. 

It  was  when  the  winter  months  were  coming  that  the 
countess,  with  a  mournful  smile,  told  Silvia  she  had 
something  important  to  say  to  her. 

"  You  have  been  very  devoted  to  us,"  said  Lady 
Leeson,  looking  up  into  the  beautiful  face.  "  Had  you 
been  our  own  child  you  could  scarcely  have  done  more 
for  us.  Oh !  what  am  I  saying  I  She  died  for  us !  "  and 


206  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

the  pent-np  agon}'  of  silent  weeks  seemed  to  break  forth 
in  the  words,  "  She  died  for  us,"  repeated  the  unhappy 
mother;  my  beautiful  darling,  who  should  have  been  a 
queen.  But,  Silvia,  this  is  what  1  want  to  say  to  you, 
you  have  been  a  most  faithful  friend  to  us ;  but  my  lord 
and  myself  both  think  a  change  is  needful  for  you,  as 
well  as  for  us.  You  are  too  fair  to  bury  yourself  in 
cucli  mournful  seclusion  as  ours." 

"  I  ask  nothing  better  than  to  share  it,"  replied  Silvia, 
raising  her  eyes,  bright  witli  tears,  to  Lady  Leeson's  face. 

"  That  I  believe,"  said  the  countess,  "  but  it  must  not 
be,  Silvia.  There  will  be  no  happiness  for  us ;  death  has 
taken  from  us  our  all.  We  shall  live  our  appointed 
time,  but  into  our  lives  no  ray  of  happiness  or  light  will 
come.  Lord  Leeson  wants  very  much  to  go  abroad.  Do 
you  notice,  that  every  day  he  grows  thinner  and  paler  — 
more  haggard,  and  more  worn?  I,  too,  think  change  of 
scene  will  be  good  for  him  ;  and  of  course  I  must  go 
•with  him.  I  shall  not  go  until  you  have  found  a  happier 
home  than  this. 

Silvia  looked  as  she  felt — grieved. 

"  It  seems  very  sudden,"  she  murmured. 
|  Yes,  it  is  sudden.     My  husband  is  not  one  to  com- 
plain ;  but  I  think  he  has   home  as  much   as   he   can. 
Evidently  his  courage  and  patience  have  come  to  an  end. 
He  told  me  this  morning  he  must  go,  or  he  must  die." 

"In  that  case  there  is  not  another  word  to  be  said," 
replied  Silvia.  "  You  should  go  at  once ;  Lord  Leeson  is 
not  one  who  speaks  in  vain." 

"  I  have  heard  of  something  that  I  believe  and  hope 
will  suit  yon."  continued  Lady  Leeson.  "  While  you 
were  in  London  did  you  ever  hear  of  Mrs.  Greville?" 

Silvia  repeated  the  name. 

'  Mrs.  Greville  ?  "  she  said  ;  "  no,  I  do  not  remember ; 
but  then  I  know  so  few  people,  and  have  heard  so  few 
names.  I  do  not  cortainlv  remc-mlvr  that  one." 

'  Mrs.  Greville  is  a  distant  relative  of  mine,"  contin- 

•ountess;   "  wry  distant,  something  like  eighth 

or  in  '  '  •  '       ,-  .....  .         ..  (> 

pondenoe.  She  is  quite  twenty  years  younger  than  i  am. 
bhe  is  a  widow,  young,  and.  the  world  says  beautiful—/ 


THROWN   ON   THB    WORLD.  207 

say  flighty  ;  very  rich.  She  was  only  eighteen  when  she 
married  Mr.  Greviile  for  his  money;  she  was  very  pretty 
then,  and  he  was  considered  one  of  the  wealthiest  com- 
moners in  England. 

"  Mr.  Greville  did  not  live  long  after  his  marriage,  and 
he  left  the  whole  of  his  immense  property  to  her ;  but, 
Mrs.  Rymer,  I  must  prepare  you.  She  is  strange  ;  she  is 
not  like  any  one  you  have  ever  known,  I  am  sure.  She 
has  the  habit  of  speaking  so  strangely — she  always  had, 
even  as  a  child — and  no  one,  I  should  imagine,  has  ever 
corrected  her." 

"  Is  that  her  worst  fault  ?  "  asked  Silvia. 

"  It  is  a  very  bad  one,  my  dear,  if  you  take  into  con- 
sideration how  censorious  the  world  is.  Do  not  mis- 
understand me ;  I  have  never  heard  one  syllable  against 
Mrs.  Grevelle  in  all  my  life.  She  speaks  strangely, 
strongly,  frankly — in  fact,  she  says  what  others  think  and 
refrain  from  saying." 

Silvia  smiled. 

u  I  do  not  think  that  is  a  trait  in  her  character  that  I 
ehall  dislike  at  all,"  she  said.  "  Is  it  possible  for  anyone 
to  be  too  truthful  ?  " 

Lady  Leeson,  looked  thoughtful. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  it  is  not,  as  you  say.  possible  to 
love  truth  too  well ;  but  the  question  is  whether  it  is  wise 
to  drag  truth  in  by  the  head  and  shoulders,  as  Mrs. 
Greville  does,  on  all  occasions,  without  the  least  heed  to 
the  why  or  the  wherefore,  or  the  fitness  of  time  and 
place." 

"  That  may  not  always  be  advisable,  certainly,"  re- 
plied Silvia. 

"  No,"  said  Lady  Leeson.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  educa- 
tion and  refinement  are  the  only  true  guides  as  to  what 
to  say  or  when  to  say  it.  To  return  to  Mrs.  Greville. 
She  has  been  living  with  an  elderly  cousin,  who  has  acted 
as  chaperon.  She  wrote  to  me  yesterday,  telling  me 
this  cousin  was  dead  and  buried,  and  asking,  at  the  same 
time,  if  I  could  recommend  her  some  lady  to  live  with 
her.  I  think  it  would  be  very  nice  for  you.  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville is  young,  lively,  fond  of  society  ;  and  you  would 
forget  some  of  the  horrors  that  have  overwhelmed  you 


208  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

here.     Shall  I  write  and  tell  Mrs.  Grcville  that  you  are 
inclined  to  take  the  engagement?  " 

"  I  do  not  like  leaving  you,"  said  Silvia,  earnestly. 

"  Nor  do  I  like  to  part  with  you,"  said  the  countess; 
*'  but  Lord  Leeson  will  recover  more  quickly  alone,  I 
think." 

So  in  a  few  days  it  was  arranged  that  Silvia  should 
leave  Leesdale  and  go  to  Lingholme  Hall,  the  residence 
of  Mrs.  Greville.  It  was  not  without  bitter  sorrow  that 
she  parted  from  Lord  and  Lady  Leeson.  Her  life  seem- 
ed to  be  one  continued  change.  She,  who  had  thought 
herself  once  so  far  removed  from  all  change  ;  who  had 
thought  herself  safe  in  the  haven  of  a  husband's  love,  safe 
in  the  shelter  of  her  own  home,  who  had  believed  herself 
at  rest  forever  from  the  world's  storms  —  now  :c  find 
that  every  year  brought  with  it  new  faces,  new  friends, 
new  associations. 

"  Verily,"  she  thought,  "  I  am  thrown  on  the  world." 

As  the  train  sped  through  the  pleasant  counties  a  dull 
kind  of  wonder  came  over  her.  "Would  life  be  all  like 
this?  Would  it  be  all  change,  all  variety,  or  would  there 
come  to  her  a  day  when  she  could  rest  under  the  shelter 
of  her  own  home  ?  But  of  all  the  thoughts,  of  all  the 
wonder  that  came  to  her,  no  dream  so  wild  or  so  weird 
as  the  truth  overshadowed  her. 

Lingholme  Park  was  on  the  borders  of  the  eastern  seas, 
nnd  Silvia  found  the  journey  long  and  tiresome.  It  was 
dark  in  the  evening  when  she  arrived,  and  her  spirits 
runk  as  they  never  had  done  before.  She  would  have 
.'•iven  much  for  the  sight  of  a  familiar  face,  or  the  sound 
)f  a  familiar  voice.  There  was  a  carnage  at  the  station 
to  meet  her,  and  she  was  driven  through  what  seemed  to 
her  miles  of  beautiful  undulating  woodlands.  The  park 
was  most  extensive,  but  as  the  gray  shades  of  evening 
lay  over  it  she  could  hardly  tell  what  it  was  like.  The 
carriage  stopped  before  the  stately  entrance  of  a  large 
mansion  ;  it  was  built  of  gray  stone,  and  looked  more  like 
a  palace  than  a  country-house. 

it  was  brilliantly  illuminated  ;  almost  every  window 
was  bright  with  light.  Silvia  looked  up  in  alarm. 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  209 

_'"  Is  there  a  party  to-night?  "  she  asked  of  the  footman 
who  opened  the  carriage  door. 

The  man  smiled  as  he  touched  his  cap. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "  there  is  no  party,  but  my  mistress 
likes  plenty  of  light.  She  does  not  like  any  room  to  be 
in  darkness." 

"  What  a  singular  taste,"  thought  Silvia,  and  yet  it 
seemed  to  her  that  in  some  respects  that  was  a  true  key 
to  the  lady's  character. 

She  was  shown  into  a  magnificent  entrance  hall. 
Everything  gave  promise  of  the  most  boundless  wealth 
and  luxury.  Almost  confused  at  first,  she  thought  that 
by  mistake  she  must  have  been,  brought  to  one  of  the 
royal  palaces  of  a  great  queen. 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

A   WARM    WELCOME. 

A  COMELY,  pleasant-looking  maid  came  to  greet  Silvia. 

"  Mrs.  Rymer,"  she  said,  "  my  lady,  thought  you 
would  reach  here  about  this  time.  Would  you  like  to  go 
to  your  rooms  ?  They  are  ready  for  you." 

Silvia  followed  her  guide  up  the  magnificent  staircase, 
with  its  marble  steps  and  rich  crimson  carpeting.  Such 
gems  of  art  as  were  strewn  in  that  one  short  journey, 
such  statues!  Venus  the  beautiful,  Hercules  the  strong, 
Apollo  the  godlike,  intermixed  with  stands  of  rarest 
flowers,  and  pictures  of  priceless  value.  She  was  by  this 
time  quite  accustomed  to  the  luxury  of  great  houses ;  but 
she  had  never  seen  anything  like  such  wealth — such  a 
display  of  magnificence  as  this,  in  her  life. 

In  the  second  corridor  they  came  to  a  door  which 
opened  into  a  small  passage,  disclosing  the  doors  of  two 
other  apartments. 

"  My  lady  thought  you  would  like  both  your  rooms 
together,  and  not  very  far  from  hers,"  said  the  smiling 
maid. 

Then  she  threw  open  the  door  of  a  pretty  little  sitting- 
room,  furnished  with  great  taste  and  elegance.  A  bright 


210  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

fire  was  burning,  a  lamp  flood  ready  lighted  on  the  table, 
the  odor  of  flowers  greeted  her  like  a  pleasant  message  ; 
on  the  table  stood  a  pretty  tea-service,  all  ready  for  use. 
There  was  such  a  look  of  home  and  comfort  that  Silvia's 
heart  grew  lighter.  Some  one  who  understood  comfort 
had  evidently  been  in  the  room  to  see  that  all  was  right 
for  her,  for  on  the  table  lay  hooks,  magazines,  and  periodi- 
cals. 

Then  the  maid  opened  the  next  door,  and  Silvia  saw  a 
beautiful  little  chamber,  white,  fresh,  fragrant. 

•'  I  will  unpack  your  boxes,"  said  the  girl,  "  while  you 
take  some  tea.  Mrs.  Rymer." 

''  Shall  I  see  Mrs.  Greville  this  evening?  "  asked  Silvia. 

"  1  think  so.  Some  visitors  came  quite  unexpectedly 
to  dinner,  or  my  lady  would  have  been  here  to  welcome 
you  herself.  She  wished  me  to  say  so." 

"  She  is  very  kind ! "  said  Silvia,  gratefully,  and  the 
girl's  face  flushed  warmly. 

"Kind!"  repeated  the  girl — "my  mistress  is  an 
angel !  "  and  Silvia  liked  her  none  the  less  for  the 
warmth  of  the  expression. 

Then  came  a  rest  after  the  toil  of  the  journey.  It 
seemed  to  Silvia  that  she  was  in  Fairyland.  All  the 
gloom  that  had  made  Leesdale  Park  so  melancholy,  had 
disappeared.  Here  were  the  bright  light,  the  warmth, 
the  fragrance,  the  elegantly  appointed  table,  the  amusing 
books. 

"  My  lines  have  fallen  in  pleasant  places,"  thought  the 
young  girl ;  and  then  she  began  to  wonder  what  would 
happen  in  this  place — whether  tragedy  or  farce,  whether 
sorrow  or  joy,  happiness  or  misery.  She  was  thinking  so 
deeply  as  to  be  hardly  conscious,  when  a  rap  at  the  door 
aroused  her. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  asked  a  voice,  clear  and  sweet  as 
the  chime  of  a  silver  bell,  and  the  next  moment  Silvia 
was  owning  to  herself  that  in  all  her  life  she  had  seen 
nothing  so  sparkling,  so  bright,  so  exquisite  as  Mrs. 
Greville. 

A  sudden,  sweet,  subtle  perfume  filled  the  room  it 
v  as  followed  by  the  sound  of  rustling  silk.  Looking  up 
hastily,  Silvia  saw  a  lady  rather  under  than  over  Uie 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD. 

medium  size,  the  loveliest,  most  graceful  figure — petite, 
sparkling,  radiant.  Rich  robes  of  black  and  white  silk, 
trimmed  with  silver  flowers  and  leaves,  fell  around  her 
in  graceful  folds.  The  face  was  dark  and  bright,  with 
something  half  foreign  in  its  flashing,  brilliant  beauty  ; 
the  eyes  large,  liquid,  bright,  and  black  as  night ;  the 
eyebrows  slightly  arched ;  the  lips  ripe,  red,  and  beauti- 
ful. 

At  first  sight  Silvia  could  not  read  the  expression  of 
that  face.  Was  it  mirthful,  mischievous,  scornful,  or 
what?  She  could  not  at  first  determine.  But  the  smile 
was  very  sweet  and  winning,  the  voice  most  marvelously 
musical  and  clear. 

"  I  have  hurried  from  my  visitors,"  said  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville,  with  a  smile,  "  to  bid  you  welcome  to  Lingholme." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Silvia.  Then  she  grew 
(somewhat  confused  at  finding  those  dark  eyes,  full  of 
half-mirthful  humor,  fixed  upon  her. 

"  You  are  very  young,  Mrs.  Ryrner,  to  be  my  chaperon. 
I  should  fancy  that  I  have  the  advantage  in  years." 

"  Life  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  altogether  measured 
by  time,"  replied  Silvia.  "  I  have  seen  people  old  at 
twenty,  young  at  forty." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Greville,  more  thoughtfully. 
"  Are  you  a  philosopher,  Mrs.  Rymer?  " 

'•  I  have  learned  some  hard  lessons,"  she  replied. 

"  You  must  try  and  forget  them  now,"  said  Mrs. 
Greville,  with  a  bright  smile ;  "  my  creed  is  that  life  is 
meant  to  be  one  happy  dream.  I  do  not  believe  either  in 
philosophy  or  anything  else  that  makes  people  dull." 

"  But  what  of  real  pain  or  real  distress  ?  "  asked  Silvia, 
somewhat  startled  by  this  novel  doctrine. 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  the  need  for  it,"  replied  the 
beautiful  lady,  with  a  gay  laugh ;  "  half  the  people  of 
this  world  make  their  own  misery  and  pain." 

"  But  what  of  poverty  and  sickness?  "  asked  Silvia, 
still  more  amazed. 

"  Those  are  horrors,  and  I  do  not  think  we  need  make 
ourselves  miserable  by  thinking  of  them,"  said  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville, with  another  gay  little  laugh.  "  I  hope  you  found 
your  rooms  comfortable  and  everything  to  your  taste  2 " 


212  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  I  thought  I  had  suddenly  fallen  into  Fairyland,"  said 
Silvia. 

"  That  is  right.  I  love  to  sec  people  comfortable  and 
happy.  Shall  you  like  being  my  chaperon  ?  " 

Silvia  looked  up  at  the  bright  face  with  a  smile  of 
hesitation.  "  My  only  fear,"  she  replied,  "  is  that  I 
shall  not  be  of  much  use  to  you." 

"  Yes,  you  will.  I  do  not  pretend  that  I  shall  obey, 
or  anything  of  that  kind.  1  have  done  just  as  I  liked  all 
my  life,  and  shall  do  the  same  until  I  die.  1  cannot  see 
what  life  would  be  without  freedom.  However,  I  can- 
not stay  to  discuss  these  questions  with  you  now,  Mrs. 
Rymer;  I  must  return  to  my  visitors.  I  think  it  is  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  ever  found  visitors  tiresome." 

Silvia  looked  at  her  in  wonder.  The  bright,  un- 
shadowed face  did  not  seem  as  though  she  had  ever 
found  anything  troublesome.  She  held  out  to  Silvia  a 
white  hand  shining  with  jewels. 

"  Welcome  to  Lingholme,  Mrs.  Rymer,"  she  said ; 
"  may  it  be  your  home  for  many  happy  years.  And  now 
good -night.  Try  to  make  yourself  very  happy  and 
comfortable.  We  shall  know  each  other  better  in  a  few 
days." 

And  for  some  minutes  after  she  had  gone  Silvia  stood 
in  wondering  amaze  at  the  brightness  and  the  beauty  of 
the  vision  so  suddenly  appearing.  The  sweet,  subtle  per- 
fume seemed  to  linger  in  the  room  ;  the  sound  of  the 
laughing,  musical  voice  seemed  to  linger  in  her  ears. 
Then  she  sat  down  again,  and  began  to  ponder  on  the 
vanity  of  woman — their  characteristics. 

How  varied  were  those  she  had  known  !  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton liad  clung  to  the  shadow  of  an  unworthy  love ;  she 
died  because  she  could  not  live  any  longer  without  a  love 
that  Silvia  knew  well  was  not  worth  "the  acceptance  of 
any  woman  —  a  weak,  fragile,  tender  soul,  out  of  which 
life  had  been  crushed  :is  one  crushes  the  perfume  from 
a  flower;  a  woman  who  only  at>ked  one  gift  from  life, 
and  that  was  love;  wlu.se  worship  was  abject;  who 
would  have  delighted  in  slavery;  who  wished  for  Noth- 
ing better  or  higher  than  to  be  the  slave  of  the  man 
whose  neglect  had  killed  her.  That  was  one  type  of 


THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD.  213 

woman — not  a  common  one,  Silvia  hoped.  She  would  not 
have  resented  words  and  blows  from  her  husband,  if  she 
could  only  have  believed  that  he  loved  her. 

Then  there  was  Lady  lanthe  —  lofty,  noble,  full  of 
poetry  and  romance ;  believing  that  love  in  itself  is  the 
highest,  the  noblest,  the  greatest  gift  in  life;  believing  in 
it  as  in  light  from  Heaven ;  believing  it  so  full  of  truth, 
of  purity,  of  nobility,  that  when  she  found  herself  deceiv- 
ed, she  could  no  longer  endure  the  life  that  had  been 
brightened  by  love ;  it  became  so  odious  to  her  that  she 
could  no  longer  bear  it,  but  laid  it  down  even  at  the 
price  or  risk  of  her  own  soul.  That  was  another  type  of 
woman,  one  of  the  most  noble  and  fatally  mistaken  ;  a 
woman  who  could  not  brook  perfidy,  who  could  not 
endure  to  find  life  less  noble  than  she  had  believed  it 
to  be. 

Now  another  type  was  presented  to  her:  the  light, 
careless,  happy,  laughing  woman  of  the  world,  who  re- 
fused to  believe  either  in  pain,  sorrow,  or  suffering;  whose 
life  had  resembled  that  of  a  bright  butterfly  on  the  wing. 

"  And  I  am  another  type  myself,"  said  Silvia,  with  a 
smile ;  "  but  I  am  half  afraid  there  is  nothing  noble 
about  me.  My  sorrow  was  bitter  enough  and  hard  enough. 
to  have  killed  me  ;  but  I  have  done  battle  with  it,  and 
am  living  it  down.  What  type  of  a  woman  am  I?" 

She  was  to  find  an  answer  to  that  question  in  the  years 
to  come,  and  in  the  meantime  she  pondered  over  it. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

A    JOURNEY     IN    PROSPECT. 

IT  was  not  long  before  Mrs.  Rymer  felt  quite  at  home 
in  Lingholme.  Her  duties  as  chaperon,  or  lady's  attend- 
ant, were  not  onerous.  They  consisted  chiefly  in  look- 
ing amiable  and  listening  to  Mrs.  Greviile.  She  was 
required  to  be  in  the  drawing  room  when  visitors  came  to 
dine  with  Mrs.  Greviile ;  to  answer  any  letters  that  the 
beautiful  young  widow  felt  disinclined  to  answer  herself; 
to  go  out  with  her  to  dinners,  balls,  and  parties. 


214  THROWN    CN    THE    WORLD. 

"  In  short,"  she  said  one  day  to  herei-lf,  ;c  it  seems  to 
me  that  I  am  most  magnificently  paid  for  doing  nothing 
in  every  possible  way." 

Rather  a  novel  way  of  looking  at  her  duties,  that  had 
not,  perhaps,  occurred  to  a  chaperon. 

She  was  sitting  one  afternoon  with  Mrs.  Greville,  when 
the  conversation  tnrned  upon  faces. 

"I  love  beautiful  faces,"  said  the  mistress  of  Ling- 
holme.  "I  am  sure  it  is  a  fortunate  tiling  for  me  that 
I  am  not  a  man.  I  should  have  been  in  love  with  every 
pretty  face  I  came  near." 

"And  constant  to  none,"  said  Silvia. 

"  Certainly  not.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  butterfly  who 
spent  its  whole  existence  in  the  heart  of  a  rose  ?  It  loves 
every  fair  flower,  sips  the  dew  from  every  crimson  leaf, 
enjoys  every  fragant  blossom." 

"  You  are  not  speaking  seriously  !  "  said  Silvia. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mrs.  Greville,  opening  wide  her 
beautiful  eyes. 

"  Because  I  do  not  think  any  woman  could  reasonably 
advocate  inconstancy,"  replied  the  young  girl. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Greville,  "  I  am  not  advo- 
cating inconstancy.  I  never  advocate  anything;  it  is  too 
much  trouble.  I  simply  say  what  I  should  do  if  I  had 
been  born  a  butterfly  or  a  man." 

"  I  think  most  men  are  inconstant  enough,"  said 
Silvia.  "  I  do  not  remember  to  have  met  many  who 
boasted  of  great  fidelity  as  a  virtue." 

Mrs.  Greville  laughed. 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  the  butterfly  in  most  men," 
she  said  ;  "  but  we  were  speaking  of  beautiful  faces.  I 
have  made  a  collection  of  them  —  that  is  of,  photographs 
of  them.  Would  you  like  to  see  them  ?  "  I 

"  Very  much,"  said  Silvia ;  and  Mrs.  Greville  rose. 

With  the  graceful,  gliding  motion  eo  peculiar  to  her, 
she  went  to  one  of  the  side-tables  and  returned  with  an 
album  richly  bound  in  crimson  and  gold. 

"  I  have  the  portraits  of  some  of  the  loveliest  women 
in  England  here."  she  said.  "If  I  were  a  flatterer,  I 
should  say  that  yours  deserved  a  place  among  the  num- 
ber." 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  215 

"  Mine!  "  said  Silvia,  looking  up  with  a  startled  glance. 

Mrs.  Greville  laughed. 

"  Yes,  yours,"  she  said.  "  Do  you  not  know  that  your 
face  is  extremely  beautiful  ? " 

"  I  had  forgotten  it,, if  ever  I  knew  it,"  replied  Silvia ; 
and  there  came  a  shadow  so  sad  in  the  depths  of  her 
beautiful  eyes  that  Mrs.  Greville  was  startled. 

"  When  a  woman  forgets  her  own  beauty,  there  has 
been  some  grave  sorrow  busy  as  her  heart,"  she  thought. 
But  one  peculiarity  of  hers  was  that  she  seldom,  if  ever, 
gave  expression  to  a  grave  thought. 

"  A  little  flattery,  in  that  case,  will  not  hurt  you,"  she 
said  to  Silvia:  "  and  there  will  be  no  harm  in  my  tellung 
you  that  I  have  no  face  in  my  book  more  beautiful  than 
your  own." 

"  Yet,"  thought  Silvia,  wearily,  "  what  has  my  beauty 
done  for  rne  ?  Only  helped  to  break  my  heart  and  blight 
my  life.  If  my  face  had  not  been  fair,  he  would  not 
have  cared  for  me,  and  I  might  have  been  happy." 
"While  Mrs.  Greville,  at  her  side,  thought : 

"  Ah,  my  lovely  chaperon  has  had  her  romance,  and  it 
has  not  been  a  pleasant  one." 

Then,  sitting  side  by  side,  they  examined  the  faces  in 
the  album.  They  came  to  one  over  which  Silvia  hung 
enraptured,  not  entirely  for  its  beauty,  but  for  the  nobili- 
ty of  expression  —  the  soul  that  seemed  to  shine  through 
the  face. 

"  You  admire  that  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Greville. 

"  I  do,  indeed,"  she  replied,  "  and  yet —  " 

"  Yet,  what  ?  do  not  hesitate.  What  were  you  going 
to  say  ? " 

"  Perhaps  it  may  be  indiscreet  to  express  my  thoughts, 
but  I  was  suddenly  impressed  with  the  idea  that  this  was 
not  the  face  of  a  very  happy  woman." 

Mrs.  Greville's  attention  seemed  suddenly  and  hastily 
arrested. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 

"  I  can  hardly  tell  you  why.  All  people  take  fancies 
at  times.  There  seems  to  me  a  story  in  that  face.  I 
could  fancy  the  owner  of  it  having  to  pass  through  some 


216  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

terrible  sorrow — having  a  dark  future  and  an  uncommon 
fate." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mrs.  Greville.  "  That  is  Lady 
Clotilde  Dynecourt.  I  know  but  little  of  her ;  but  her 
husband  was  once  a  great  friend  of  mine.  I  have  always 
"liked  him  and  admired  him  exceedingly.  I  should  not 
like  to  think  there  was  any  fate  but  a  bright  one  in  store 
for  his  wife." 

"  Some  faces  tell  their  own  story,"  said  Silvia,  sadly. 
"  This  is  the  face  of  a  noble  woman,  who  will  look  for 
nobility  in  those  she  loves ;  and,  looking,  not  find  it." 

"Why,  you  are  more  cynical  than  I  am  myself,"  cried 
Mrs.  Greville.  "  Even  I  do  not  despair  of  finding  some 
nobility  in  poor  human  nature.  I  shall  watch  Lady 
Clotilde's  career  with  interest,  just  to  see  if  your  proph- 
ecy be  a  true  one." 

Silvia  repeated  the  name  slowly. 

"  Lady  Clotilde  Dynecourt !     Is  she  an  English  lady  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  she  was  Lady  Clotilde  Voyse  before  her  mar- 
riage. Lord  Dynecourt  is  a  most  charming  man.  I  re- 
member that  I  envied  her  when  I  heard  that  she  had 
married  him." 

Silvia  smiled. 

"  That  is  another  of  your  terribly  frank  speeches,  Mrs. 
Greville,"  she  said.  "  That  is  an  idea  that  might  have 
occurred  to  many  women,  but  few  would  have  cared  to 
express  it." 

More  than  once  that  evening  she  returned  to  look  at 
the  face  that  for  her  had  so  strange  a  charm. 

How  little  she  dreamed  that  the  features  she  thought 
so  noble,  so  full  of  soul,  so  eloquent,  belonged  to  the 
woman  that  of  all  the  world  she  had  the  greatest  cause  to 
dread,  to  pity,  and  to  dislike ! 

How  little  she  dreamed  that  Lady  Clotildo  Dynecourt 
was  her  rival— had  taken  her  place  in  the  heart  of  the 
only  man  she  had  ever  loved ! 

How  little  she  dreamed  that  the  time  was  coming 
when  they  two  should  stand  arrayed  against  each  other ! 

A  sudden  whim  came  to  Mrs.  Greville. 

"  I  shall  not  pass  the  winter  in  England,"  she  said. 
J^ToJfclHhe  truth,  an  English  winter  is  most  detestable 


THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD.  217 

to  me.  I  cannot  support  the  fogs,  the  cold,  the  frost, 
and  the  desolation.  Sunshine  is  the  greatest  blessing  in 
all  the  world  ;  and  when  one  can  afford  to  go  in  search 
for  it,  why  not  have  it  ?  " 

"Where  should  you  like  to  go?"  asked  Silvia,  anxi- 
ously. 

"  Anywhere  where  the  sun  shines,  and  the  flowers 
bloom.  Let  us  go  to  Italy." 

"  Should  you  wish  me  to  go  with  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Where  are  your  ideas  of  propriety,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Rymer?  Am  I  to  roam  about  the  world  with- 
out a  companion  ? " 

"  But,"  said  Silvia  humbly,  "  I  am  afraid  that  I  should 
be  so  utterly  useless  to  you.  I  know  nothing  of  travel- 
ing ;  I  can  speak  no  language  but  my  own.  I  am  afraid 
that  1  should  not  be  a  pleasant  companion." 

"  I  have  no  fear  of  the  kind,"  laughed  Mrs.  Greville. 
"  As  for  languages,  they  are  soon  learned  when  one  lives 
where  they  are  spoken.  If  we  stay  away  a  year  or  two 
you  will  be  a  famous  linguist.  Then  we  will  go 
through  a  complete  course  of  art  education.  We  will  visit 
all  the  famous  pictures  and  statues  in  Europe.  I  have 
been  educated  several  times,  but  I  have  unfortunately 
forgotten  all  I  learned.  There  is  no  cause  for  delay — 
we  will  start  at  once." 

Silvia  hesitated.  There  was  the  boy.  She  had  been 
pining  for  long  months  for  one  look  at  him. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Greville,  in  her  frank, 
imperious  manner.  "  I  can  see  a  doubt  in  your  face. 
What  is  the  doubt?" 

"  I  should  like  to  see  my  little  son,"  replied  Silvia. 
"  I  should  like  to  spend,  at  least,  two  or  three  days  with 
him  before  going  abroad." 

"  By  all  means,"  replied  Mrs.  Greville ;  "  go  to- 
morrow, if  you  will.  I  have  never  cared  for  children 
myself,  but  I  can  sympathize  with  those  who  do.  If  your 
boy  were  only  a  little  older  we  would  have  him  down  to 
Lingholme.  He  is  too  young  yet  to  pay  visits.  Go 
to-morrow,  and  stay  as  many  days  as  you  like  with  him; 
we  will  have  everything  ready  to  Btart  at  once  when 
jou  return." 


218  THROWN  ON   THE   WORLD. 

So  on  the  morrow  Silvia  wont.  It  was  the  second 
holiday  in  her  life,  and  though  sorrow  still  preyed  upon 
her,  thousrh  b  r  life  lay  in  ruins,  her  love  betrayed,  her 
future  blighted,  not  even  her  fair  name  left  to  her — she 
could  not  help  feeling  happier  and  better  than  she  had 
done  since  her  betrayer  had  left  her. 

The  fresh  air,  the  sense  of  freedom,  and  the  happiness 
of  seeing  her  child  again,  brought  the  most  exquisite 
bloom  to  her  lovely  face.  She  looked  so  yonng,  so  beau- 
tiful, so  attractive  in  her  sweet,  gentle  grace,  that  she  felt 
ashamed  of  the  many  admiring  glances  that  followed  her. 

"  If  they  knew,"  she  thought  to  herself  —  "  if  people 
only  knew  my  story,  how  they  would  loathe  me.  It  is 
well  for  me  that  the  true  history  of  my  life  is  not  told 
in  my  face." 

People  might  wonder  why  she  shrunk  from  observa- 
tion, why  she  seemed  inclined  to  hide  from  all  notice ; 
but  then  how  few  could  have  guessed  that  the  lovely  face 
hid  a  tragedy  ! 


CHAPTER  L. 

MOTHER    AND    SON. 

IT  was  with  joy  that  was  almost  pain  that  Silvia  held 
the  boy  in  her  arms  once  more. 

•'  My  little  Cyril!  "  she  cried,  in  a  rapture  of  delight. 

Soon,  so  soon,  you  will  be  little  no  more." 

For  the  child  was  growing  into  magnificent  strength 
and  beauty.  The  younej  mother  trembled  as  she  looked 
into  the  beautiful  face,  It  was  so  like  that  of  her  lost  love. 
Cyril  had  the  same  handsome  eyes,  out  in  his  there  was 
no  indolence,  only  fire,  energy,  and  power.  He  had  the 
same  beautiful  lips,  the  broad,  square  brow,  the  cluster- 
ing curls;  in  fact,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  find  a 
stronger  likeness  than  existed  between  father  and  son. 

Again  and  again  Silvia  looked  at  him,  almost  in  terror. 
No  one  who  had  ever  seen  Alric  Rymer  could  fail  to 
recognize  his  son. 

"  Nature  has  told  my  secret,"  said  the  girl  to  herself. 


THROWN    ON    THE   WORLD.  219 

"  The  secret  that  I  would  have  kept  with  my  life  she  has 
told." 

It  was  more  than  a  year  since  she  had  seen  the  boy, 
and  the  difference  in  him  bewildered  her.  He,  too,  was 
overjoyed.  Nothing  seemed  to  weaken  his  love  for  his 
beautiful  young  mother.  It  was  as  though  he  had  parted 
from  her  yesterday.  He  caressed  her  in  his  graceful, 
loving  way ;  kissed  her  face,  her  hands,  murmuring  the 
while  sweetest  words  of  tenderness  to  her. 

"  There  is  a  balm  for  every  wound,"  thought  Silvia ; 
"  all  my  sorrows  seem  small  when  I  have  Cyril." 

Yet  it  was  terribly  hard  when  he  smiled  at  her  with 
his  father's  eyes,  kissed  her  with  his  father's  lips — when 
he  spoke  to  her  in  that  voice  every  tone  of  which  she 
remembered  so  well.  So  closely  did  it  resemble  her  lost 
love's  that  there  were  times  when  she  started  and  thought 
he  must  be  near.  He  was  growing  up,  this  boy  for  whom 
she  had  dreamed  such  bright  dreams,  and  for  whom  she 
had  now  no  hope  at  all.  What  would  his  inheritance  be? 
That  of  shame  and  sorrow.  He  would  have  no  name,  no 
place  in  the  world,  no  father's  love  or  protection. 

"  You  will  have  no  one  but  me  my  darling,"  she  cried, 
clasping  him  in  her  arms.  "  And,  oh !  how  I  will  love 
you,  to  make  up  for  this." 

She  did  not  spend  her  whole  time  in  caressing  him. 
There  were  arrangements  to  be  made  for  him.  He  was 
nearly  three  years  old,  and  must  not  remain  under  good 
Mrs.  Tate's  care  much  longer. 

As  she  sat  with  him  in  her  arms  there  came  to  her  no 
warning  of  the  future  of  that  child — a  future  of  which 
history  still  speaks. 

At  Hampstead  there  was  an  excellent  school  for  boys, 
under  the  superintendence  of  a  clergyman  and  his  wife. 
The  clergyman  himself,  a  learned  scholar  and  a  good 
man,  undertook  the  elder  pupils,  while  his  wife  managed 
the  younger.  Silvia  resolved  upon  going  to  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Hardman,  and  placing  her  son  under  his  care.  She  told 
him  her  husband  was  dead,  and  she  herself  had  an  en- 
gagement out  of  England,  which  might  extend  over  many 
years.  When  Cyril  was  three  she  should  like  him  to  be 


220  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

taken  entirely  under  the  minister's  care.  Mr.  Hard  man 
looked  earnestly  at  the  beautiful  face  of  the  girl. 

"  I  will  undertake  the  charge,"  he  said  ;  "  and  I  hope 
that  your  son  will  grow  up  like  his  mother." 

Her  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  but  no  compliments 
ever  made  her  vain ;  she  had  always  the  sad  after- 
thought : 

"  If  they  knew  my  story — if  the  world  knew  me  for 
what  I  am,  there  would  be  no  kind  words  for  me  then." 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  her  to  know  that  such  an 
excellent  home  and  excellent  training  awaited  Cyril.  On 
the  day  following  she  took  him  to  Hampstead  House,  and 
Mrs.  Hard  man  was  enchanted  with  the  child's  beauty. 
But  the  clergyman  said  little.  He  looked  earnestly  at 
the  patrician  face,  he  noted  the  air  of  high  birth  and 
breeding  that  seemed  to  pervade  every  action  of  the 
child. 

"  I  have  seen  a  face  somewhere,"  he  said,  "  that  rises 
before  me  as  I  look  at  your  little  boy,  Mrs.  Rymer." 

Silvia  blushed,  and  then  felt  annoyed  with  herself  for 
having  done  so. 

"  I  must  be  more  careful  for  my  boy's  sake,"  she 
thought ;  "  for  myself  nothing  matters.  On  his  life,  if  I 
can  prevent  it,  there  must  rest  no  stain.  I  was  innocent 
— I  am  innocent ;  why  should  I  blush  for  another's  sin  ?  " 

"I  should  like  to  understand  plainly,"  said  Mr.  Hard- 
man.  "  You  may  be  absent  for  some  years,  and  letters 
fail  at  times.  What  kind  of  training  am  I  to  give  your 
son — is  he  to  be  a  man  of  business,  or  what?  " 

She  never  could  account  for  the  impulse  that  made 
her  answer : 

"  Let  him  have  the  training  of  a  gentleman  ;  "  but  in 
after  years  she  was  thankful  for  having  said  the  words. 

When  Silvia  had  quitted  the  house,  Mr.  Hardmau 
turned  to  his  wife. 

"  Rymer !  "  he  said,  slowly  ;  "  I  have  no  recollection 
of  the  name." 

"  Nor  have  I,"  said  Mrs.  Hard  man  ;  "  but  it  is  a  good 
name,  1  am  sure." 

"  And  I,  my  dear,  have  been  accustomed  to  boys  too 
long  to  make  any  mistake.  1  can  read  the  signs  of  race 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  221 

as  I  can  read  the  pages  of  a  book,  and  I  tell  you  that 
that  boy  has  some  of  the  best  blood  of  England  in  his 
veins." 

Mrs.  Hardman  looked  anxious. 

"  I  hope  it  is  all  right,"  she  said. 

"  You  may  be  quite  sure  of  that.  I  would  trust  that 
young  mother's  face  sooner  than  any  other  face  I've 
seen,  except  yours,  my  dear." 

The  lady  smiled.  She  was  a  woman  of  sense,  not 
disposed  to  give  way  to  foolish  jealousy  because  her 
husband  chose  to  admire  a  pretty  face. 

"Mrs.  Rymer  is  a  widow,  I  presume,"  she  said. 

"  Yes;  and,  unless  I  make  a  greater  mistake  than  ever 
I  thought  myself  capable  of  making,  Mrs.  Ry  trier's  hus- 
band was  one  of  old  England's  aristocrats — the  boy  looks 
as  though  he  had  had  a  peer  for  his  father." 

Before  Silvia  had  left  Hampstead,  she  had  made  every 
arrangement.  She  was  to  pay  the  whole  of  her  annuity 
for  her  boy,  and  he  in  return  was  to  receive  the  best 
education,  food,  and  clothing.  The  allowance  was  munifi- 
cent ;  but  she  wanted  no  money  for  herself.  It  pleased 
her  generous  heart  that  she  should  give  all  to  her  boy ; 
it  seemed  to  her  some  kind  of  atonement  for  his  father's 
neglect. 

That  night,  as  she  clasped  him  in  her  arms,  she  cover- 
ed his  beautiful  face  with  kisses  and  tears. 

"  You  have  but  me,  my  darling,"  she  said,  "  in  the 
whole  wide  world.  Your  father  took  from  you  even  his 
name.  I  give  you  all  I  have  in  the  world,"  and  that 
thought  seemed  to  comfort  her.  It  was  hard  work  to 
leave  him,  and  the  young  mother  shed  bitter  tears. 

"  You  must  not  forget  me,  my  darling,"  she  said. 
"  You  must  always  remember  mamma." 

The  child  clung  to  her  as  though  he  Understood  what 
she  meant. 

"  I  shall  love  you  always,"  he  said,  and  the  words  com- 
forted her. 

Then  she  was  obliged  to  return  to  Lingholme.  There 
she  found  everything  ready  for  immediate  departure,  and 
Mrs.  Greville  anxious  for  her  return. 

"  I  hope  I  have  not  been  too  long?  "  said  Silvia. 


222  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 

"No;  to  speak  trothfnl!y,  I  did  not  expect  yon  until 
to-morrow.  1  know  what  mothers,  are  with  their  children. 
I  see  by  your  face  that  you  have  been  weeping;  bitter 
tears.  As"  soon  as  we  return  to  Lingholme,  he  shall  come 
and  stay  with  us." 

A  promise  that  Mrs.  Greville  kept,  and  the  keeping  of 
which  involved  many  lives  in  one  common  catastrophe. 

Then  they  started  for  Italy,  and  for  the  next  three 
years  life  was  like  a  fairy  dream  to  Mrs.  Ryrner.  She 
had  always  longed  to  travel,  and  for  the  opportunity  to 
study.  Now  she  had  both.  They  visited  all  the  most- 
famous  cities  in  Italy  and  Silvia  made  a  point  of  rising 
early.  While  Mrs.  Greville  was  dreaming  away  the 
pleasant  morning  hours,  Silvia  was  busy  with  grammar 
and  dictionary.  It  was  not  long  before  she  could  read 
Italian  as  well  as  English,  and  then  she  began  to  speak  it, 
and  before  Mrs.  Greville  thought  it  possible  that  she  had 
mastered  the  rudiments,  she  was  able  to  carry  on  an  elo- 
quent conversation.  Mrs.  Greville  was  much  amused  at 
her  companion's  industry. 

"  Are  you  qualifying  yourself  for  a  diploma  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  No,"  replied  Silvia,  simply ;  "  but  I  should  like  to 
be  clever,  if  I  can,  for  the  sake  of  my  darling  boy." 

And  Mrs.  Greville  who,  despite  her  gayety  and  cynical 
philosophy,  had  something  of  a  woman's  heart,  was  touch- 
ed by  the  answer. 

There  is  no  education  so  useful  as  that  acquired  by 
travel  and  observation.  Before  Silvia  Rymer  had  been 
long  in  Italy,  she  had  made  more  progress  in  general 
knowledge,  in  art,  in  literature,  in  biography,  than  she 
could  have  made  by  quiet  study  at  home  for  many  years. 
It  never  occurred  to  her  that  she  was  qualifying  herself 
to  take  a  high  position  in  the  great  world.  Her  only 
idea  was  that  when  her  boy  grew  up,  clever  and  accom- 
plished, he  must  not  be  ashamed  of  her.  She  must  do 
her  best  to  make  herself  a  companion  to  him.  Mrs. 
Greville  mixed  the  highest  circles.  Silvia  had  always 
before  her  eyes  in  the  example  of  the  best  bred  men  and 
women  of  modern  Europe.  No  wonder  she  profited  by 
it,  and  that  day  by  day  she  gained  grace,  dignity,  intelli- 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  223 

gence,  and  sweetness.  Day  by  day  her  delicate  beauty 
increased  ;  she  was  universally  admired,  and  the  mistress 
of  Lingholme  professed  herself  delighted  by  the  homage 
offered  to  her  beautiful  companion. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

"BECAUSE  i  DO  NOT  LOVE  HIM." 

.  FOUR  years  had  passed  since  Silvia  Rymer  bade  adieu 
to  England  and  her  little  son.  Seldom  had  time  worked 
such  wonders  or  produced  such  changes  as  in  her.  She 
had  left  home  beautiful  and  graceful,  it  is  true  —  gifted 
with  a  certain  kind  of  tact  that  stood  in  the  place  of 
cultivation ;  she  returned  one  of  the  most  elegant  and 
accomplished  women  of  her  time. 

What  was  even  so  mighty  as  love? — what  love  so  great 
as  that  of  a  mother  for  her  child  ?  Had  little  Cyril  died, 
Silvia  would  have  had  no  object  in  life — she  would  have 
been  quite  indifferent  as  to  how  that  life  was  spent.  As 
he  lived,  her  whole  mind  and  the  strength  of  her  whole 
soul  was  devoted  to  one  object — making  herself  a  fitting 
companion  for  him.  He  was  to  be  a  gentleman,  this 
noble,  princely,  beautiful  boy  of  hers,  and  she  must  be 
worthy  of  her  place  as  his  mother.  For  his  sake  she  rose 
when  others  slept.  She  studied  indefatigably  ;  she  read, 
thought,  and  pondered.  For  his  sake  she  grasped  eagerly 
at  all  the  knowledge  it  was  possible  to  acquire  ;  for  his 
sake  she  sought  the  conversation  of  wise  and  learned  men ; 
for  his  sake  she  toiled  through  the  rudiments  of  educa- 
tion, she  read  the  choicest  books,  she  devoted  every  spare 
moment  to  the  acquirement  of  knowledge.  Her  oppor- 
tunities were  great.  Mrs.  G-reville  had  no  thought  but  to 
amuse  herself.  It  was  always  late  when  she  arose,  and 
Silvia,  by  dint  of  perseverance  in  early  hours,  found  that 
she  had  something  like  half  a  day  at  her  own  disposal. 

The  result  of  her  continual  and  industrious  application 
was  something  wonderful.  When  Lord  Dynecourt  first 
saw  her  she  was  a  lovely,  simple,  graceful  girl,  something 
like  a  wild-flower  untrained — igaorant,  pure  in  heart  and 


224  THROWN  ON  THE  WOELD. 

soul,  but  uncultivated  and  crude  in  her  notions ;  now  she 
was  oue  of  the  most  refined  and  graceful  of  women.  Her 
beautiful  soul  shone  in  her  face.  There  was  a  grace  and 
elegance  in  her  words;  a  sweet,  subtle  fancy  seemed  to 
dictate  her  bright  thoughts.  There  where  few  subjects 
on  which  she  could  not  converse  with  ease  and  fluency. 
In  all  matters  connected  with  art,  poetry  and  literature, 
she  was  quite  at  home.  She  had  a  method  of  expressing 
her  thoughts,  at  once  so  simple  and  so  graceful,  that  the 
most  gifted  and  intelligent  men  found  the  greatest 
pleasure  in  talking  with  her.  She  spoke  French  and 
Italian  with  ease,  she  could  read  German ;  she  had  more 
than  a  superficial  acquaintance  with  modern  literature. 
There  was  not  a  picture  of  any  renown  of  which  she  did 
not  know  the  history.  She  had  always  been  beautiful, 
but  the  loveliness  of  her  face  deepened ;  it  no  longer 
consisted  merely  of  shape  and  color.  The  spiritual,  clear 
expression  was  now  perhaps  the  greatest  charm. 

In  short,  a  more  beautiful,  refined,  graceful  woman 
than  Silvia  Rymer  at  this  period  of  her  life  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  find. 

Mrs.  Greville  watched  the  change  with  great  delight. 
6he  was  too  carelessly  generous,  too  large-hearted  to 
either  fear  or  dread  any  rivalry.  Nothing  pleased  her 
more  than  to  hear  her  beautiful  attendant  admired  and 
complimented. 

One  thing,  however,  in  Mrs.  Rymer  puzzled  her.  Why 
did  she  invariably  refuse  all  offers  of  marriage?  Several 
had  been  made  to  her,  some  of  them  most  brilliant;  one 
from  a  gentleman  in  Florence,  whose  wealth  and  position 
were  unexceptionable ;  but  Silvia  refused  all  with  a  quiet 
dignity  that  somewhat  bewildered  the  gay  widow. 

<k  So  you  have  refused  Monsieur  De  Laune,"  she  said 
to  Silvia.  "  Do  you  know  that  he  will  succeed  to  his 
father's  title  and  estates  some  future  day  ? " 

Silvia  smiled. 

*  Yes;  I  ought  to  know  it,  for  you  have  impressed  the 
fact  upon  me  every  day  since  he  first  came  here." 

1  For  your  own  good,  Silvia.  Why  did  you  refuse 
him?" 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  225 

n  For  such  a  simple  reason,  that  you  will  langh  when  I 
tell  you — because  I  do  not  love  him." 

"  Love!  "  repeated  Mrs.  Greville,  in  an  accent  of  most 
profound  contempt.  "  I  did  not  know  that  you  thought 
seriously  of  that  kind  of  nonsense." 

It  was  Silvia's  turn  to  look  up  in  wonder. 

"  Do  you  not?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  was  the  very  candid  reply,  with  a  merry  laugh, 
"  most  certainly  not.  Where  should  I  have  been  if  I  had 
ever  dreamed  of  such  a  thing?  " 

"  Is  it  not  an  essential  of  life  ? "  asked  Silvia. 

"No;  or,  again,  where  should  I  be  ?  I  have  passed 
my  life  without  it.  I  never  loved  any  one  or  anything 
except  my  own  self." 

"  I  cannot  believe  it,"  said  Silvia,  hesitatingly. 

"  I  assure  you  it  is  true.  I  have  a  very  kindly  feeling 
for  most  people.  When  it  is  possible,  without  incon- 
veniencing myself,  I  would  gladly  help  any  one.  For 
some  people  I  have,  I  need  not  say,  a  much  more  kindly 
liking  than  for  others;  but  as  for  love — I  never  did,  and 
never  intend  giving  way  to  any  such  vagary." 

"  But,"  said  Silvia,  looking  slightly  shocked,  "  your 
husband — what  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  had  the  greatest  respect  for  him,"  said  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville. "  He  was  a  kind,  worthy  man  ;  but  love —  why, 
Silvia,  I  was  married  before  I  was  twenty,  and  he  \vas 
nearly  sixty.  I  always  consider  myself  a  sensible  woman  ; 
when  I  was  quite  young  I  weighed  my  chances  very 
carefully,  and  looked  them  in  the  face,  and  saw  plainly 
what  they  were.  I  was  well  born,  and  had — -so  the 
world  said — a  pretty  face ;  I  had  good  connections,  and 
no  fortune;  my  duty  was  therefore,  obviously,  to  look 
out  for  a  rich  husband.  I  told  myself  that  there  must  be 
no  nonsense  over  love." 

Mrs.  Greville  paused,  to  laugh  at  the  horrified  expres- 
sion of  Silvia's  face. 

"  I  was  very  systematic  in  my  method  of  proceeding," 
she  continued.  "  As  soon  as  I  went  into  society,  I  looked 
about  for  the  wealthiest  man  in  it.  This  I  found  to 
be  Mr.  Greville,  of  Lingholme,  a  retired  capitalist, 
whose  name  was  a  pillar  of  strength  among  wealthy  men. 


226  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

Almost  before  I  saw  him  I  said  to  myself  that  he  would 
be  the  best  possible  match  for  me." 

"  But,"  interrupted  Silvia,  "  there  is  no  romance  in 
euch  a  life." 

"  Certainly  not.  Romance  beautifies  literature,  helps 
to  sell  books  ;  but  if  you  want  a  peaceful  life,  keep  clear 
of  it.  I  frankly  own  that  when  I  was  introduced  to  Mr. 
Qreville  I  did  my  best  to  fascinate  him,  and  in  a  short 
time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  finding  that  I  had  succeeded  ; 
he  made  me  an  offer,  and  we  were  married.  I  know  no 
two  people  who  were  happier;  we  never,  that  I  remem- 
ber, had  one  disagreeable  word." 

"  It  is  not  given  to  every  one  to  be  able  to  crush  all 
heart,  all  sentiment  and  desire  for  affection  out  of  their 
lives,"  said  Silvia. 

The  beautiful  face  glowed  again  with  merriment. 

"  Because  people  are  so  foolish ;  poets,  painters,  and 
romancers  in  general  are  to  blame  for  it.  Believe  me,  it 
is  only  an  idea  after  all  that  the  world  cannot  go  on 
without  love.  If  there  were  less  of  this  nonsense  it 
would  be  better.  Silly  boys  and  girls  get  their  minds 
filled  with  absurd  ideas  about  love,  and  they  sacrifice  all 
more  sensible  notions  to  it.  Some  of  the  wisest  and 
happiest  men  and  women  have  lived  without  it,  and  have 
made  no  murmur  over  their  lives." 

"  But,"  remonstrated  Silvia,  "  you  say  you  love  your- 
self;  is  it  not,  at  least,  more  noble  to  love  another,  than 
to  concentrate  all  your  thoughts  and  anxieties  on  self?  " 

"Self-preservation  is  the  first  law  of  nature,"  said 
Mrs.  Greville,  "  so  that  self-love  must  be  something  like 
a  virtue  too." 

You  could  never  lose  life  or  reason  for  love,"  said 
Silvia,  thinking  of  the  unhappy  ladies  she  had  known. 

"  No,  indeed  ;  I  value  both  too  highly.  Now  tell  me, 
Silvia,  why  have  you  sacrificed  such  a  brilliant  career  as 
the  one  lying  before  you  if  you  would  only  be  Madame 
De  Laune  ? " 

"  I  am  not  like  you,  I  could  not  marry  without  love. 
I  should  care  little  for  money,  for  position,  rank,  or  any 
other  advantage,  but  I  must  have  love." 

Mrs.  Greville  laughed  good  temperedly. 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  227 

"  You  are  like  all  the  other  women  I  know,  and  yon 
will  wreck  yourself  upon  some  rock.  Did  you,  then, 
Silvia,  love  your  husband  very  much?" 

The  delicate  face  flushed  and  the  lips  quivered.  Years 
had  passed  since  the  cottage  on  the  Scottish  lakes  had 
been  anything  but  a  dream,  but  it  had  strange  power  to 
move  her.  Not  one  hour  of  that  time  was  forgotten,  not 
one  pain,  not  one  thrill  of  happiness,  not  one  moment  of 
the  bitter  anguish  and  shame.  She  remembered  it  all  as 
though  it  had  been  but  yesterday.  Though  life  was 
brighter  to  her,  and  had  grown  broad  in  a  thousand  new 
claims,  she  still  wished  she  had  died  before  she  had  dis- 
covered the  perfidy  of  the  man  she  loved  and  trusted. 

Other  and  more  perplexing  thoughts  had  come  to  her. 
She  was  present  one  evening  at  a  brilliant  reception 
given  by  an  English  peeress  at  Rome,  and  the  conversa- 
tion turned  upon  a  great  law-case  that  was  just  attracting 
the  attention  of  all  England.  It  was  of  an  English  gen- 
tleman who  had  married  in  Scotland  a  beautiful  and  ac- 
complished woman,  whom  he  had  professed  to  love  very 
dearly.  He  had  married  her  in  the  presence  of  witnesses, 
according  to  the  Scotch  formula.  They  had  been  known 
as  man  and  wife  for  some  two  years,  and  now,  upon  his 
accession  to  higher  rank  and  title,  he  was  endeavoring  to 
set  the  marriage  aside. 


CHAPTER  LIL 

AN   INTERESTING   DISCUSSION. 

No  one  understood  the  rapt  expression  of  Silvia's  face 
as  she  listened  to  this  discussion.  No  two  people  agreed 
over  it.  Some  said  the  marriage  was  valid,  others  that  it 
was  not ;  some  said  the  marriage  laws  were  so  insecure 
that  the  marriage  was  valid  in  Scotland  but  not  in  Eng- 
land. Though  absurd,  that  seemed  to  be  the  general 
impression,  while  Silvia,  with  whitening  lips  asked : 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  a  marriage  should  be  legal  in 
one  country  and  not  in  another? " 

'She  was  told  "  yes,"  that  such  a  circumstance  had 
often  occurred,  and  would  doubtless  occur  again. 


228  THROWN    ON    THE   WORLD. 

"  It  seems  horrible,"  she  said.  "  I  cannot  understand 
such  a  terrible  state  of  things." 

She  was  talking  to  a  gray-haired  English  gentleman, 
one  who  had  been  in  parliament  for  many  years,  and  the 
shocked  expression  of  her  beautiful  face  interested  him. 

"  It  will  not  always  be  so,"  he  said.  "  The  attention 
of  our  legislators  has  been  for  some  time  aroused — there 
must  be  a  reform." 

"  There  must  be  one !  "  cried  Silvia,  earnestly.  "  I 
always  thought  that  marriage  was  a  solemn  ceremony, 
binding  people  together  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  without 
reference  to  human  laws." 

"  That  is  what  it  ought  to  be,"  paid  the  old  ftatesman  ; 
"  and  what  it  will  be  when  the  attention  of  the  whole 
Christian  world  is  aroused  to  the  correction  of  abuses." 

"  There  can  be  no  end  to  the  confusion  that  such  a 
state  of  things  cause,"  said  Silvia. 

"  It  seems  to  me  one  inviolable  rule,"  said  the  jentle- 
man,  "  and  I  think  to  every  sensible,  reasonable  mind  it 
will  seem  just.  "When  people  believe  themselves  in  all 
good  faith  to  have  been  married,  then  the  marriage  is 
legal  and  binding.  I  believe  that  opinion  is  general." 

A  thousand  eager  questions  rose  to  her  lips,  but  she 
repressed  them.  It  would  not  do  to  excite  curiosity  by 
her  words  or  manner. 

"  I  knew  a  very  painful  instance  many  years  ago," 
continued  the  statesman,  seeing  that  Silvia  was  deeply 
interested  in  the  subject  ;  "  a  gentleman — we  shall  call 
him  Mr.  Devereux  — <-  fell  deeply  in  love  with  a  young 
girl,  who  was,  however,  much  below  him  in  position. 
lie  took  her  to  Scotland,  went  through  the  formula  re- 
quired by  the  Scottish  law  ;  they  lived  as  man  and  wife 
for  three  years.  She  had  two  sons.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  Mr.  Devereux's  fancy  waned.  He  very  coolly  in- 
formed the  young  girl,  who  believed  herself  his  wife, 
that  the  pretended  marriage  was  no  marriage  at  all;  he 
settled  a  sum  of  money  upon  her  and  retunud  to  Erg- 
land,  and  contracted  an  alliance  with  the  daughter  of  a 
celebrated  English  peer." 

"  And  she,  the  first  wife  1 "  asked  Silvia,  breathlessly. 

"  For  some  yours  she  seemed  to  have  been  quite  uncon- 


THKOWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  229 

scions  of  her  claims,  then  she  asserted  them.  It  is  im- 
possible to  say  what  the  decision  might  have  been  ;  but 
the  English  wife  died  while  the  trial  was  pending,  and 
the  gentleman,  making  the  best  of  matters,  persuaded  his 
first  love  to  forgive  him.  She  is  known  and  received 
everywhere  as  the  Countess  A ,  but  between  her  hus- 
band and  the  relatives  of  the  English  lady  he  married 
there  is  a  deadly  feud  that  will  one  day  or  other  lead  to 
fatal  consequences,  I  am  afraid." 

He  did  not  know  why  the  beautiful  face  looking  into 
his  had  grown  white  with  anguish. 

"  And  you,"  she  said ;  "  you,  yourself,  which  of  those 
two  do  you  believe  to  be  his  lawful  wife  ?  " 

"  I,  myself,"  he  repeated,  "  I  believe  in  the  first  mar- 
riage, of  course  ;  it  was,  in  my  opinion,  a  lona  fide  mar- 
riage. The  girl  herself  believed  it  to  be  so,  and  in  the 
sight  of  Heaven  it  was.  But,  Mrs.  Kymer,  you  are  ill — 
you  are  faint;  here  I  am  talking  to  you,  and  you  are 
looking  very  ill.  Let  me  take  you  where  you  can  get 
some  fresh  air." 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  sensitive,  and 
your  story  shocked  me." 

He  looked  at  the  pure,  delicate,  lovely  face,  little 
dreaming  how  every  word  that  he  uttered  was  like  a  balm 
to  her  aching  heart,  because  it  held  forth  the  hope  that 
her  son  was  not  the  child  of  shame. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  that  it  is  by  a  special 
providence  gentle  and  sensitive  women  are  spared  any 
great  knowledge  of  the  world's  horrors." 

Then  the  statesman's  attention  was  claimed  elsewhere,, 
and  Silvia  was  left  alone.  Light,  flowers,  jewels,  fair 
faces,  all  seemed  to  be  whirling  around  her.  She  was 
hardly  conscious,  for  the  sudden  conviction  had  come  to 
her  that,  if  these  marriages  were  legal,  so  was  hers. 

She  had  been  married  in  perfect  good  faith  ;  there 
had  not  been  the  faintest  shadow  of  a  doubt  in  her  mind. 
She  had  been  married  according  to  the  Scotch  formula. 
Was  it  in  the  power  of  the  man  she  accepted  to  be  her 
husband,  to  set  that  marriage  aside  by  a  few  words  of  hii 
own. 

It  had  not  occurred  to  her  before ;  she  had  most  im- 


230  THBOWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

plicitly  believed  his  decision,  and  had  believed  her  mar- 
riage a  pretence — a  deception.  If  it  were  true  —  dear 
Heaven,  if  it  were  true!  If,  instead  of  being  that  dis- 
graced outcast  she  had  learned  to  consider  herself,  she 
was  indeed  Alric  Rymer's  lawful  wife  ;  if  her  little  son, 
instead  of  being  nameless,  had  every  claim  upon  hie 
father;  if  this  shame,  this  anguish,  might  pass  away 
from  her,  if  this  bitter  pain  might  no  longer  be  hers! 

The  walls  seemed  to  be  closing  round  her.  She  was 
like  a  man  who,  after  having  been  shut  up  in  a  dark 
dungeon  for  long,  weary  years,  sees  at  length  a  gleam  of 
eunlight.  She  saw  this  gleam,  and  it  dazzled  her ;  she 
longed  to  cry  out,  but  her  lips  seemed  to  have  grown 
white  and  stiff;  her  breath  came  in  thick,  hot  gasps. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  after  all  he  had  deceived  her 
— that  she  -\vas  his  lawful  wife,  and  he  had  deserted  her? 

There  was  a  sudden  sensation  in  that  brilliant  assem- 
bly ;  the  beautiful  English  lady,  whose  sweet  face  had 
been  the  centre  of  all  attraction,  had  suddenly  fainted, 
and  had  to  be  carried  from  the  room. 

Mrs.  Greville  ordered  her  carriage  and  drove  home  at 
once ;  but  it  was  some  time  before  Silvia  recovered  from 
the  shock.  When  she  did,  Mrs.  Greville  stood  by  her 
fiide,  with  a  smile,  as  usual,  on  her  lips. 

"  Why,  Silvia,"  she  said,  "  you  have  been  carrying  on 
the  arduous  duties  of  chaperon  now  for  some  years,  and 
never  fell  beneath  the  burden  before  ;  what  was  the  mat- 
ter to-night? " 

"  I  do  not  know,  I  cannot  tell,"  she  said,  in  a  trembl- 
ing tone. 

Mrs.  Greville  bent  lower  down,  so  as  to  look  more 
closely  at  her. 

"  There  is  something  new  and  strange  in  your  face 
to-night,  Silvia.  What  is  it  ?  —  a  light  that  is  half  a 
shadow." 

Silvia  made  no  answer,  and  Mrs.  Greville  turned  away 
from  her 

"  Ah,  you  will  not  trust  me ;  but  I  am  not  a  bad  reader 
of  faces.  I  am  quite  sure  that,  in  some  way  or  other,  you 
have  had  something  to  do  with  the  world's  great  destroy- 
or — love.  Did  you  seo  Monsieur  de  Laune  ?  " 


THBOWN    ON   THE    WOULD.  231 

**  No,  I  did  not  see  him.  Oh,  Mrs.  Greville,  pray  do 
not  mention  his  name  to  me  again.  You  do  not  know." 

"  Of  course  I  do  not  know ;  you  make  no  attempt  to 
tell  me  ;  how  am  I  likely  to  know  ?  If  you  have  any 
secrets,  Silvia,  you  will  find  me  a  safe  confidante." 

But  Silvia  turned  away  in  something  like  despair. 
How  little  any  one  could  ever  guess  what  her  secret  was 
like. 

Mrs.  Greville  was  very  kind  to  her,  insisting  that  she 
needed  rest.  But  to  Silvia  that  rest  was  peopled  by 
thoughts  so  distracting  that  it  was  worse  than  work. 


CHAPTER  LITI. 

"HE   WAC   A  VILLIAN!" 

ALL  other  interests  of  Silvia  Rymer  now  merged  into 
one — was  she,  or  was  she  not,  the  lawful  wife  of  the  man 
she  had  married  according  to  the  Scotch  formula  and  law? 
How  anxiously  she  watched  the  progress  of  that  long  case 
could  not  be  told  in  words.  She  read  every  line  of  it, 
never  omitting  one  report;  but  it  seemed  to  puzzle  the 
wisest  men.  In  Ireland  it  was  tried,  and  there,  amid  the 
ringing  cheers  of  the  people,  the  clashing  of  bells,  and 
public  rejoicing  of  all  kinds,  the  verdict  was  given  for 
the  lady — unhesitating  given.  She  was  —  agreed  judge, 
jury,  and  council — the  lawful  wife  of  the  man  she  had 
married.  There  was  no  mistake  about  it,  there  could  be 
no  question  over  it.  She  was  his  lawful  wife.  That 
might  have  been  considered  decisive,  but  it  was  tried 
again  in  England,  and  there  the  decision  was  reversed. 
Silvia  grew  bewildered  as  she  read.  Was  it  possible  that 
in  a  country  priding  itself  on  the  justness  of  its  laws,  the 
integrity  of  morals,  such  injustice  could  be? 

Tho  more  deeply  she  thought  upon  the  matter,  the 
more  decidedly  she  agreed  with  the  old  statesman  that 
when  people  believe  themselves  to  have  been  married, 
the  marriage  was  binding,  legal,  and  valid.  Yet  the  very 
doubt  that  assaile-l  her  seemed  to  her  more  terrible  than 
nil  her  former  fears.  She  felt  that  she  would  give  her 


232  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

life  a  hundred  times  over  to  know  that  the  great  weight 
of  shame  and  reproach  was  hers  no  longer. 

"  I  would  die  any  death,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I 
would  suffer  any  torture,  to  know  that  in  the  sight  of 
Heaven  I  am  his  lawful  wife." 

She  resolved,  if  she  could  meet  the  old  statesman,  Mr. 
Eversham,  again,  that  she  would  give  him  the  outline  of 
her  story,  and  ask  his  opinion  of  it.  It  would  be  a  very 
easy,  simple  matter  to  bring  the  conversation  round  by 
the  same  subject,  and  then  she  would  act  by  what  he  said. 
But  fate,  or  fortune,  seemed  to  be  against  her  ;  they  had 
met  Mr.  Eversham  continually,  but  now  that  she  wanted 
to  see  him,  he  had  vanished  completely  from  sight. 

"  Will  you  go  to  Madame  Torlani's  to-night,  Silvia  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  Greville.  "  There  will  be  a  brilliant  recep- 
tion ;  the  Neapolitan  princes  are  to  be  there." 

Silvia  had  not  been  well  lately,  and  had  not  cared  about 
going  out.  Suddenly  her  face  cleared  and  brightened. 

"  Will  Mr.  Eversham  be  there  ?  "  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Greville  laughed. 

"  Is  he  the  attraction  ?  Yes,  I  should  think  so ;  he 
would  not  miss  if  he  is  still  in  Rome.  I  have  not  seen 
him  lately.  Why,  Silvia,  what  interests  you  in  Mr. 
Eversham?  He  is  old  enough  to  be  your  grandfather." 

"  I  like  to  talk  to  him  ;  he  is  clever  and  well  inform- 
ed," she  replied. 

"  Well,  every  one  to  his  or  her  own  peculiar  taste.  I 
am  glad,  in  any  case,  that  you  are  going;  it  will  do  you 
good,  and  you  have  not  been  looking  like  yourself  lately, 
at  all." 

"  I  have  not  been  well,"  said  Silvia. 

"  Ah !  there  has  been  something  more  than  that ;  but 
never  mind,  I  am  not  endowed  with  woman's  most  fatal 
gift — curiosity.  I  am  not  going  to  tease  you  with  ques- 
tions. You  have  been  anxious  and  unhappy  ;  there  has 
been  a  strong  fever  of  restlessness  upon  you  ;  if  speaking 
to  Mr.  Eversham  will  benefit  you,  you  shall  talk  to  him." 

Mrs.  Greville  seemed  so  pleased  at  the  idea  of  going 
out  again  with  Silvia,  that  her  companion  was  touched. 
They  went  to  Mine.  Torlani's  and  one  of  the  first  people 
they  met  was  Mr.  Evershain.  Mrs.  Greville,  always 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  233 

ready  to  do  a  good-natured  action,  spoke  to  him  and  kept 
him  by  her  side.  Suddenly  affecting  to  see  some  one  she 
knew,  she  turned  to  him  with  that  irresistible  smile  of 
hers. 

"  Mr.  Eversham,  will  you  talk  to  Mrs.  Rymer  ?  I  see 
an  old  friend  in  the  saloon,  and  I  know  she  feels  nervous 
in  these  crowded  assemblies  at  being  left  alone." 

Mr.  Eversham's  face  brightened. 

"  You  could  not  have  conferred  a  greater  pleasure 
upon  me,  madam,"  he  said  ;  and  Mrs.  Greville  smiled  as 
the  old  gentleman  took  his  seat  eagerly  by  the  side  of  her 
beautiful  companion. 

But  now  the  grand  wish  of  her  heart  was  accomplished, 
Silvia  hesitated,  hardly  knowing  how  to  begin  the  con- 
versation. It  was,  however,  Mr.  Eversham  who  com- 
menced by  asking  her  if  she  still  kept  up  her  interest  in 
the  great  Scotch  marriage  trial.  She  told  him  "  yes," 
that  she  read  every  line  of  it,  and  agreed  with  the  Irish 
jury,  who  had  decided  in  the  lady's  t'avor. 

"  So  do  I,"  he  replied' emphatically.  "  If  I  had  been 
on  the  English  jury  that  verdict  should  never  have  been 
given.  I  would  have  held  out  against  it." 

Then  Silvia  took  courage,  and,  raising  her  beautiful 
eyes  to  his,  said  : 

"  You  seem  to  understand  these  matters,  Mr.  Evers- 
ham I  want  to  tell  you  something  of  a  young  friend  of 
mine,  if  you  will  listen." 

"  Listen  !  Certainly  I  will.  Do  you  think  I  could  ask 
for  anything  more  pleasant  than  to  listen  to  you  ?  " 

Some  women  in  her  place  would  have  made  a  desper- 
ate attempt — would  have  thrown  off  all  gravity,  and  have 
told  their  story  so  as  to  arrest  his  attention. 

Not  so  Silvia ;  she  was  too  terribly  in  earnest.  Her 
beautiful  face  grew  quite  white ;  her  lips  quivered,  her 
eyes  wore  a  piteous,  pleading  expression  that  would  have 
melted  the  hardest  heart.  She  was  looking  at  him  as 
thougli  he  held  her  fate  in  his  hands. 

"  What  of  your  friend  ?  "  he  asked  at  length.  And 
she  started  as  one  who  wakes  suddenly  from  a  deep 
sleep. 

"  You   must  consider  my  story  as  quite  confidential/ 


234  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

she  said  ;  and  he  did  not  know  how  tightly  her  hands 
clasped  the  pretty  fan  she  carried. 

"  I  have  been  trusted  with  many  secrets  in  my  life," 
he  said,  gravely.  "  You  may  safely  confide  in  me." 

"  My  friend,  years  ago,  was  a  simple,  pretty,  innocent, 
country  girl,  knowing  nothing  of  the  world  or  its  ways; 
simple,  good,  because  she  knew  no  evil,  but  most  certain- 
ly valuing  her  good  name  above  everything. 

"  Perhaps  she  was  not  what  the  world  calls  a  saint, 
yet ;  if  the  whole  world  had  been  offered  to  bribe  her  to 
do  wrong,  she  would  not  have  done  it." 

He  nodded  as  though  he  would  say  that  he  quite 
understood  the  character. 

"  To  the  village  where  she  lived,"  continued  Silvia, 
"  there  came  a  very  handsome,  clever,  accomplished  gen- 
tleman, who  fell  in  love  with  her,  and,  after  a  time,  asked 
her  to  be  his  wife.  She  consented." 

The  words  began  to  fall  slowly  from  her  lips,  and  the 
clasp  of  her  white  fingers  grew  more  tight. 

"  She,  my  friend,  had  a  mother  living,  and  there  seem- 
ed to  be  no  effort  for,  and  no  need  of  concealment,  but 
at  last  the  gentleman  persuaded  the  young  girl  to  elope 
with  him,  unknown  to  any  one.  I  need  not  tell  you  what 
persuasion  she  used  ;  they  seemed  good  to  her,  and  noth- 
ing doubting,  she  went  with  him.  They  travelled  to- 
gether to  Scotland,  and  there  they  were  married." 

"  In  what  manner  ? "  he  asked,  looking  much  interest- 
ed in  her  story. 

"  Before  two  witnesses ;  he  took  her  hand  and  repeat- 
ed the  formula  of  words,  declaring  that  in  the  presence 
of  witnesses  he  made  her  his  wife.  She  did  the  same ; 
and  they  were  known  all  over  the  neighborhood  as  man 
and  wife.  They  had  one  little  boy,  who  was  baptized  by 
the  minister  of  the  parish  in  which  they  lived.  I  do  not 
suppose  that  if  any  one  had  been  told  they  were  not  man 
and  wife  such  a  tiling  would  have  been  believed." 

"  Well  ? "  said  the  old  statesman,  for  she  had  paused 
unable  to  continue. 

"  The  young  girl,  my  friend,  believed  in  that  marriage 
*'i<"  believed  in  Heaven,  I  do  not  think  anything  in 
-  iue  world  could  have  shaken  her  faith  in  it,  until  at 


THBOWN  ON  THE  WORLD,  235 

last,  suddenly,  to  her  bewilderment,  surprise  and  an- 
guish, he  left  her —  lie  left  her  without  one  word,  hut  he 
wrote  to  her  and  told  her  that  the  marriage  was  not  legal ; 
that  he  had  never  intended  it  to  be  legal;  that  he  had 
provided  amply  for  her  and  her  little  son." 

"  He  was  a  villain  !  "  said  Mr.  Eversham. 

She  raised  a  hand  as  though  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"  Oh !  no — no !  "  she  cried.     "  Do  not  say  so." 

Then  recollecting  herself  suddenly,  she  grew  still  and 
calm. 

"  "We  do  not  know,"  she  said.  "  We  cannot  tell  how 
he  was  tempted.  We  may  not  know  all  the  circum- 
stances. There  may  be  something  that  excuses  him —  " 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  interrupted.  "Women 
are  so  pitiful  and  so  merciful,  they  would  excuse  any 
crime.  I  tell  you  he  was  a  villain !  What  happened 
then  ?  " 

"  He  went  away,  as  I  have  said,  leaving  my  friend  and 
uer  little  child.  For  some  short  time  she,  poor  girl  was, 
almost  mad;  indeed,  I  think  her  reason  did  leave  her. 
It  was  the  shame,  when  she  had  trusted  and  believed  in 
him  so  implicitly." 

"  Poor  child,"  he  murmured.  "  It  was  very  hard  for 
her." 

"  She  would  not  take  his  money — she  never  touched  it. 
She  accepted  the  doom  laid  upon  her.  She  learned  to 
look  upon  herself  as  one  branded  by  the  world.  She 
went  away  from  the  home  where  she  had  been  so  happy, 
a  broken-hearted,  despairing  woman  ;  she  took  nothing 
with  her  but  her  little  child.  She  continued  to  live 
always  in  sorrow,  in  shame,  and  in  anguish;  still,  she 
lived.  Her  boy  grew  strong  and  beautiful  — everything 
prospered  with  her — but  she  never  met  him  again.  What 
I  wanted  to  ask  you  is  —  Do  you  think  she  was  his 
lawful  wife  f  " 


236  THSOWN    ON    TliK    WORLD. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

A    LAWFUL    WIFE. 

SILVIA  paused  when  she  had  nsked  that  question.  She 
did  not  know  how  the  minutes  fled,  she  did  not  know 
how  the  time  passed.  The  brilliant  scene — the  lights,  the 
fair  faces,  and  shining  gems — all  faded  away  from  her; 
she  saw  nothing  but  the  shrewd  old  face  bent  over  hers. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  time  stood  still.  Her  last  question 
Bounded  in  her  ears  as  loud  as  though  it  had  been  echoed 
through  the  room.  She  was  hardly  conscious,  so  intense 
was  her  anxious  expectation ;  the  sound  of  Mr.  Evers- 
ham's  voice  came  to  her  with' a  half-startled  shook. 

"Was  she  his  lawful  wife?"  he  repeated,  slowly,  as 
though  he  were  weighing  the  question.  u  You  say  she 
married  in  all  good  faith  and  sincere  belief  ? " 

"  Most  certainly  she  did,"  replied  Silvia. 

"  And  that  they  were  well  known  in  that  part  of  Scot- 
land where  they  lived  as  man  and  wife?" 

"  There  never  was  the  least  doubt  of  it." 

"Was  she — your  friend — married  in  her  own  name?  " 
he  continued. 

"  Yes,  there  was  no  attempt  made  at  disguising  it." 

"  Did  he  take  an  assumed  name,  or  did  he  use  the  one 
lie  was  always  known  by  ? " 

"  That  I  cannot  tell ;  but  he  was  known  in  England 
by  the  same  name  —  I  do  not  think  it  was  assumed. 
What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Eversham  —  do  you  believe  that 
marriage  was  legal  ?  " 

Her  agitation  was  so  great  that  the  wonder  was  he  did 
not  perceive  it.  Her  face  was  white,  her  hands  trembled 
her  lips  quivered  —  she  looked  like  one  awaiting  a  sen- 
tence of  life  or  death. 

"  I  should  certainly  say  myself  that  it  was  both  legal 
and  binding.  I  am  sure  of  one  thing,  that  it  was  valid 
before  Heaven,  and  I  believe  before  men." 

She  did  not  speak  again  for  some  minutes ;  the  strain 
upon  her  Herves  had  been  too  great ;  the  tight  grasp  of 


THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD.  237 

her  fingers  relaxed,  her  lips  quivered  with  a  long  drawn 
sigh.  It  was  only  by  the  exertion  of  the  greatest  self- 
control  that  she  was  able  to  keep  herself  from  a  deadly 
swoon. 

"  I  am  very  much  interested  in  your  friend,"  said  Mr. 
Eversham. 

"  Did  she  never  make  any  claim  for  her  rights,  or  seek 
to  establish  the  marriage  in  any  way  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Silvia.  "  She  did  as  I  say  ;  she  accept- 
ed the  doom  that  was  laid  upon  her  without  murmur, 
and  without  making  any  effort  to  redress  her  wrongs." 

"  Did  he  marry  again  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Eversham. 

"Even  that  I  cannot  tell  you,  but  I  should  imagine 
so." 

"  Then  he  has  rendered  himself  liable  to  an  action  for 
bigamy.  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do,  Mrs.  Kymer. 
My  legal  knowledge  is  good,  and  profound,  I  believe 
as  far  as  it  goes,  but  I  will  not  rely  on  that  alone.  I 
have  a  friend  in  London,  an  eminent  counselor,  Mr. 
Holkstone.  I  will  write  to  him.  Counsel's  opinion  is 
generally  safe." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  take  so  much  interest,"  she 
said. 

"Ah!  my  dear  Mrs.  Rymer,  do  not  let  me  deceive 
you ;  my  interest  is  for  you,  not  for  your  friend.  If  she 
were  not  your  friend,  I  should  hardly  be  philanthropist 
sufficient  to  take  any  trouble.  Such  stories  are,  unfortu- 
nately, so  common.  However,  I  will  write ;  and  if  you 
will  permit  me,  I  shall  do  myself  the  pleasure  of  wait- 
ing upon  you  when  the  answer  comes." 

"  You  do  not  know  how  grateful  I  shall  be,"  she  said. 
"  Mr.  Eversham,  will  that  answer  be  decisive  ?  " 

"7  should  be  content  to  abide  by  it,"  he  replied. 
"  There  are  few  men  in  the  world  equal  to  Holkstone  in 
legal  matters.  If  he  says  that  first  marriage  was  valid, 
you  may  safely  rely  upon  it  that  your  friend  is  all  right. 
If  he  says  '  no,'  I  am  afraid  she  must  abide  by  the 
decision." 

"  If  it  should  be  '  yes,'  "  said  Silvia,  musingly,  "  what 
is  to  be  done  then  ?  " 

Mr.  Eversham  looked  up  with  great  animation. 


238  THROWN   ON   THE    WOELD. 

"  Your  friend,  of  course,  will  please  herself ;  but  were 
I  in  her  place,  I  should  take  immt'diiite  steps  for  securing 
my  right  place  in  the  world.  I  should  unmask  the  man, 
bring  an  action  against  him  ;  let  all  the  world  see  that  he 
is  unworthy  of  credit,  let  his  true  character  be  known." 

A  light  almost  divine  came  over  her  face. 

"  She  will  not  do  that,  I  think;  but  it  will  comfort  her 
to  know  that  she  does  not  really  deserve  the  brand  of  the 
world's  scorn." 

"  Did  you  not  say  that  she  had  a  son  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  in  a  faltering  voice ;  "  a  beautiful, 
princely  boy." 

"  Then  let  her  sacrifice  herself  as  she  may,  she  has  no 
right  to  sacrifice  him.  There !  we  have  moralized  long 
enough,  Mrs.  Rymer.  Here  comes  Madame  Torlani,  and 
with  her  the  Neapolitan  princes.  Talk  of  handsome 
men,  there  you  see  them." 

He  talked  to  her  good-naturedly,  believing  that  he  was 
amusing  her,  and  showing  great  knowledge  of  the  world  ; 
but  she  never  heard  one  word  ;  her  whole  thoughts  were 
engaged  in  the  one  grand  wonder  as  to  what  the  counsel's 
opinion  could  be.  She  interrupted  him  in  the  midst  of 
a  brilliant  description  of  the  late  Queen  of  Naples,  by 
asking  him  how  long  it  would  be,  in  all  probability,  be- 
fore he  received  the  answer  ? 

He  looked  amused,  not  angry. 

"  "What  a  devoted  friend  you  are !  "  he  said,  with  a 
laugh.  "  In  ordinary  cases  we  should  have  to  wait  three 
weeks  or  more;  but  I  will  as-k  Mr.  Holkstone  to  devote 
a  few  hours  to  this  at  once.  He  \vill  oblige  me,  I  am 
sure.  Yon  may  expect  me  in  ten  days  from  now." 

"  Ten  days !  "  she  repeated  to  herself.  "  How  shall  I 
live  through  them?  How  shall  I  live  through  each 
minute,  each  hour?" 

Then  Mrs.  Greville  came,  with  many  laughing  remarks 
upon  their  long  interview ;  the  carriages  were  ordered, 
and  the  brilliant  reception  of  Mme.  Torlani  was  at  an 
end. 

[begin  to  have  my  suspicions."  said  Mrs.  Greville 
laughingly,   as   they  drove   home   through    the   moonlit 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  239 

streets.  "  After  talking  BO  sentimentally  about  love  I 
verily  believe  you  intend  captivating  Mr.  Eversham." 

"I  do  not,  indeed,"  said  Silvia,  with  Buch  earnest 
gravity  that  Mrs.  Greville  was  still  more  amused.  It  was 
with  difficulty  she  heard  and  replied  to  the  gay  young 
widow's  remarks,  so  much  was  at  stake  for  her.  In  ten 
days  she  should  know  whether  she  had  any  claim  to  the 
name  of  wife ;  whether  her  boy  could  use  his  father's 
name ;  whether  the  horrible  brand  that  had  depressed 
and  humiliated  her  was  to  be  removed ;  whether  she 
might  open  her  heart  to  the  brighter  influence  of  life ; 
and  let  the  mantle  of  shame  and  sorrow  fall  from  her. 
AH  this  was  at  stake,  and  bright  jesting  words  seemed 
cruel  to  her ;  she  could  not  understand  them  ;  she  stood 
on  the  balance — life  or  death. 

Ten  whole  days,  and  each  day  twenty-four  hours  long! 
Ah !  if  she  could  but  pass  the  intervening  time  in  one 
long,  dreamless  sleep  !  But  every  moment  must  be  lived 
throng!),  and  life  cannot  be  set  aside. 

If  the  answer  wore  "  yes,"  what  then  ?  It  would  take 
from  her  the  stigma  of  shame,  but  it  would  not,  it  could 
not  give  back  to  her  the  lost  lovo,  the  lost  happiness,  the 
lost  dreams  of  her  youth.  Nothing  could  give  back  to 
her  her  lost  lovo,  the  hero  she  had  worshiped  ;  nothing 
could  repay  her  for  the  tears  she  had  shed,  the  anguish 
she  had  endured,  the  burning,  sense  of  desolation  and 
misery  through  which  she  had  passed ;  nothing  could 
give  her  back  the  past,  and  restore  the  shattered  idols 
that  lay  in  ruins  around  her. 

During  those  days  of  suspense  she  did  not  care  to  look 
forward.  If  the  answer  should  be  "  no,"  there  was  noth- 
ing for  her  but  to  bear  it  patiently,  to  go  on  doing  her 
best,  and  endure  her  lot  as  best  she  might. 

But  if  it  should  be  "  yes!  "  She  dare  not  look  for- 
ward ;  she  dare  not  think  what  she  should  do,  what  she 
should  say,  what  steps  she  should  take. 

Then  it  flashed  across  her  suddenly  that  she  should  not 
know  where  to  seek  or  to  find  Ulnc  Rymer.  She  had  a 
dim,  vague  idea  that  he  was  a  man  high  in  station.  How 
was  she  to  find  him?  In  all  the  years  she  had  lived  since 
he  had  left  her  she  had  never  once  heard  his  name ;  and 


240  THROWN   ON   THE    WOKLD. 

if  he  were  of  high  rank,  as  she  half  believed,  she  must 
have  heard  it. 

Was  he  living  or  dead  ?  It  did  not  occur  to  her,  as  it 
would  have  done  to  many  women,  that  the  most  sensible 
and  straight -forward  course  would  be  to  write  to  the 
lawyers  whom  he  had  mentioned  in  his  letter.  The 
thought  never  occurred  to  her. 

"  When  I  go  back  to  London,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I 
will  ask  about  him.  I  will  make  all  kinds  of  inquiries. 
If  he  be  living,  I  will  find  him ;  if  he  be  dead,  I  will 
find  his  grave." 

She  lived  through  the  ten  days  —  in  after  years  she 
could  not  have  told  how  —  but  they  came  to  an  end  at 
last.  It  was  the  eleventh  when  Mr.  Eversham  made  his 
appearance  at  the  villa,  and  asked  for  Mrs.  Rymer. 

Her  heart  beat,  as  she  entered  the  saloon,  so  loud  and 
eo  fast  she  could  hardly  speak.  One  glance  showed  her 
that  the  letter  had  arrived.  He  held  a  long  strip  of 
parchment  in  his  hand. 

She  did  her  best  for  little  Cyril's  sake ;  she  nerved 
herself  to  act  and  speak  calmly.  Mr.  Eversham  greeted 
her  warmly. 

"  I  am  one  day  behind  my  time,"  he  said  ;  "  but  the 
letter  did  not  come  till  this  morning,  and  I  have  hasten- 
ed here  with  it." 

She  looked  up  in  his  face ;  he  saw  the  intensity  of  her 
agitation. 

"  What  does  he  say?  "  she  murmured. 

"  Good  news  for  your  friend,  Mrs.  Rymer.  The  mar- 
riage was  perfectly  legal,  and  she  was  his  lawful  wife  1 " 


THEOWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

A   PLEASANT    ANTICIPATION. 

IT  was  some  time  before  Silvia  could  recover  herself 
at  all.  The  wond  seemed  to  have  ended — dine  to  stand 
still.  The  curse  that  had  clung  to  her  for  years  had 
fallen  from  her  at  last.  At  last  she  stood  free  and  un- 
fettered, able  to  raise  her  head  with  its  halo  of  inno- 
cence undimmed ;  able  to  take  her  place  where  she  had 
always  most  wished  to  stand  — among  the  honorable  rank 
of  woman  whose  pride  and  boast  is  a  fair  name. 

Mr.  Eversham  saw  that  she  was  completely  overcome. 

"  5Tou  love  your  friend  very  much,"  he  said  gently. 
"Now  let  me  read  this  paper  to  you." 

It  was  somewhat  obscure  in  its  legal  phraseology, 
but  the  sense  of  it  was  plain  enough  even  to  her  half 
bewildered  mind.  Th  re  might  be  doubt  elsewhere,  but 
there  was  none  in  the  mind  of  the  clever  lawyer.  He 
saw  no  flaw  in  the  marriage,  it  was  evident. 

"  The  lady  has  ground  sufficient  for  an  action  at  law," 
he  wrote,  "  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  would  be  de- 
cided in  her  favor  " 

"  So  you  see,  Mrs.  Rymer,"  said  Mr.  Eversham,  "  your 
friend  has  the  law,  as  it  were,  in  her  own  hands." 

He  saw  that  she  was  to  much  agitated  to  reply  co- 
herently, but  no  suspicion  of  the  truth  came  over  him. 
He  never  dreamed  that  he  was  making  inquiries  for  her, 
or  they  would  have  been  more  zealously  made.  He 
thought  her  friend  must  be  an  old  schoolmate,  to  whom 
she  was  warmly  attached,  and  he  admired  her  all  thu 
more  for  her  intense  and  kindly  sympathy  towards  others. 

It  was  a  relief  to  Silvia  when  Mrs.  Greville  entered  the 
room.  She  advanced  to  greet  the  old  statesman  with  out- 
stretched hands.  She  had  so  much  to  say  to  him  that 
Silvia's  silence  was  unheeded.  They  talked  of  Rome, 
Mine.  Torlani,  of  the  brilliant  receptions,  of  everything 
that  was  gay  and  amusing.  No  one  surpassed  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville in  that  kind  or  conversation — all  sparkle,  brilliancy, 


242  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

and  nonsense.  Mr  Eversham  enjoyed  it  very  much, 
and  after  a  time  took  his  leave.  Then  Mrs.  Greville 
went  up  to  Silvia,  arid,  bending  over  her,  kissed  her. 
She  was  not  given  to  caressing,  or  any  great  demonstra- 
tion, and  Silvia  looked  up  with  a  sudden  gleam  of  affec- 
tion. 

"  Secrets  still?  "  said  Mrs.  Greville.  "  I  must  not  ask 
what  they  are,  but,  Silvia,  there  is  a  look  in  your  face  to 
day  that  1  have  never  seen  before." 

She  raised  her  head  proudly.  It  was  the  firet  time  for 
years.  Heaven  help  her,  that  she  had  dared  to  raise  it 
among  honorable  women ! 

"  I  have  heard  good  news,"  she  said,  briefly.  And 
then  other  visitors  came  in  and  the  conversation  ended. 

But  Silvia  was  left  like  one  bewildered.  In  vain  that 
day  she  took  up  books  to  read,  fancy  work,  sewing,  writ- 
ing—  she  could  not  keep  her  attention  fixed  on  any  one 
thing  for  many  minutes.  All  that  she  could  remember — 
the  only  idea  that  she  could  keep  in  her  mind — was,  she 
was  Ulric  Rymer's  lawful  wife. 

She  could  find  no  reft  in-doors ;  she  went  out  into  the 
sunlit  garden,  and  bending  over  the  pretty  fountains  saw 
her  face  reflected  in  the  clear,  shining  waters.  For  the 
first  time  for  many  years  its  beauty  pleased  her.  She 
had  forgotten  what  it  was  like  to  feel  the  least  thrill  of 
pleasure  or  delight  in  her  girlish  loveliness;  but  now,  as 
she  looked  at  the  fair  face  in  the  tranquil  waters,  she  was 
pleased  that  Cyril's  should  be  comely  in  all  eyes.  Per- 
haps there  came  to  her  the  remembrance  of  the  time 
when  some  one  else  had  praised  that  face,  and  had  called 
it  fairest  of  the  fair.  She  saw  herself  a  difference  of 
expression ;  the  face  she  had  been  accustomed  to  see 
downcast,  with  an  expression  hnlf  of  shame,  half  of  desire 
{•>  l>o  hidden  from  the  world's  sight ;  the  face  upon 
which  she  gazed  now  was  fearless  in  its  expression  of 
innocence. 

Even  the  dancing  waters  and  the  sunlit  garden  oppress- 
ed her.  She  went  into  her  own  room,  and,  kneeling  by 
her  bod,  she  thanked  Heaven  for  having  delivered  her 
from  til-.-  mrsc  and  bondage  she  thought  only  t<>  lose  in 
diiuih.  iso  one  can  tell  how  great  her  relief  was.  except 


THROWN  ON   THE   WORLD.  243 

those,  who,  like  her,  have  lived  under  the  shadow  of  a 
dark  cloud  and  suddenly  find  that  cloud  vanished. 

When  the  first  ecstasy  of  her  happiness  had  passed  she 
was  able  to  think  more  clearly  ;  she  was  no  nearer  her 
lost  love  than  before ;  the  smart  of  his  desertion  was  no 
less:  the  pain  of  her  loss  was  keen  as  ever;  but  the  one 
great  happiness  was  hers.  She  was  before  God  and  man 
•i  lawful  wedded  wife.  Of  this  joy  no  one  could  rob  her. 
No  one  could  take  it  from  her.  Even  if  she  never  saw 
him  again,  she  should  take  this  source  of  happiness  with 
her  to  the  grave.  She  could  not  decide  upon  any  plans; 
the  only  thought  that  occurred  to  her  was  that  when  she 
returned  to  England  she  would  do  her  best  to  rind  him. 

A  few  days  afterward  Mrs.  Greville  said  to  her: 

"  Silvia,  do  you  know  how  long  it  is  since  we  left. 
England  ?  " 

"  Yes;  I  have  kept  a  faithful  record  of  each  day,"  waa 
the  truthful  reply. 

"  And  though  you  have  said  nothing  about  it,  though 
you  have  neither  murmured  nor  complained,  I  can  im- 
agine that  each  day  has  seemed  an  age,  because  of  your 
great  love  foi  your  boy." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  him  again,"  said  Silvia,  wistfully; 
"  but,  though  I  have  not  actually  seen  him,  three  days 
have  never  passed  without  my  hearing  about  him.  Mr. 
Hard  man  has  sent  me  a  photograph  of  him ;  but  my 
heart  aches  for  one  look  at  him." 

"  I  think  we  have  been  away  long  enough.  1  propot-e 
returning  to  London  for  the  season.  What  do  you 
think  1 " 

A  sudden,  burning  flush  dyed  her  fair  face — it  was  the 
desire  of  her  heart  put  into  words. 

"  I  should  like  it  better  than  anything  else  in  this  wide 
world,"  said  Silvia,  eagerly. 

"  You  would  have  liked  it  long  ago,  but  have  not  said 
so.  I  suspect  we  will  go  to  Lingholme,  and  you  shall 
have  your  boy  there  for  a  week  —  all  to  yourself  —  and 
then  we  will  go  to  London." 

Silvia  was  delighted.     Mrs.  Greville  watched  the  beau 
tiful  face  with  admiring  surprise. 

"  The  time  will  come,  I  honestly  believe,  when  I  siaii 


844  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

be  jealous  of  you,  Silvia,  if  you  grow  much  prettier.  I 
must  look  to  my  laurels  already." 

There  was  great  and  general  disappointment  expressed 
when  it  was  known  that  Mrs.  Greville  and  her  beautiful 
friend  intended  leaving  Rome  ;  but  Silvia  looked  for- 
ward eagerly  to  the  time.  Her  interest  in  everything 
seemed  dead  ;  she  had  but  one  idea,  one  thought,  one 
longing,  and  it  was  to  be  in  London,  where  she  could 
make  inquiries  after  her  long-lost  lover. 

Did  he  know  that  marriage  was  legal  ?  She  could  not 
tell.  At  times  she  thought  not — that  his  intention  had 
been  throughout  to  deceive  her;  but  then  he  was  a  man 
of  the  world,  who  understood  the  world's  ways  ;  it  was 
barely  possible  that  he  should  be  mistaken.  Knowing  it. 
had  he  married  again?  She  lost  herself  in  a  thousand 
conjectures ;  she  was  almost  bewildered  by  the  chaos  of 
thought  that  seemed  at  times  to  overwhelm  her. 

"  You  do  not  regret  leaving  Rome,"  said  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville to  her  on  the  morning  of  their  departure*  "  You 
look  as  delighted  as  possible  over  it.  Do  you  forget  how 
many  adoring  lovers  you  leave  behind  '(  " 

"  The  adoring  lovers  do  not  trouble  me  in  the  least," 
said  Silvia.  "  I  feel  quite  indifferently  over  them." 

And  the  gay  widow,  who  lived  upon  the  breath  of 
adulation  and  homage,  looked  with  wonder  and  surprise 
at  the  calm,  fair  face  of  the  woman  who  had  cared  so 
little  for  the  brilliant  offers  of  marriage  she  had  received 
as  barely  to  remember  them. 

The  journey  to  England  seemed  very  lon«;  to  Silvia, 
everv  hour  increased  her  impatience.  What  con  Id  Cyril 
be  like  ?  It  seemed  so  long  since  she  had  left  him.  IJ< 
would  be  seven  years  old  —  a  baby  no  longer,  but  grow- 
ing rapidly.  How  her  mother-heart  yearned  for  him  ! 

"  How  could  I  have  left  him  ?"  she  asked  herself,  over 
and  over  again.  "  And  yet  I  have  done  better  for  him 
than  if  I  spent  my  income  in  keeping  up  a  house  for 
him." 

By  Mrs.  Greville's  kindly  expressed  wish,  she  wrote  to 
Mr.  Hardman,  telling  him  of  her  return  to  England,  and 
her  longing  desire  to  see  her  boy. 

"  I  cannot,"  she  wrote,  "  go  to  Hampstead  ;    "  but  I 


THBOWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  245 

beg  of  you  to  send  some  trustworthy  messenger  with  my 
boy  at  once,  and  let  him  remain  at  least  a  week  at  Line- 
holme." 

"  Home  is  pleasant  after  all,"  said  Mrs  Greville,  on 
the  evening  of  their  return.  "  I  ran  away  from  English 
winters,  and  English  fogs,  but,  after  all,  they  have  a 
charm  of  their  own.  I  do  not  think  I  shall  go  away 
again." 

It  was  pleasant.  February  had  come  in  very  fair  guise 
that  year.  The  snowdrops  wer^  peeping  above  the 
ground,  there  was  a  faint  odor  of  violets  in  the  shady 
parts  of  the  wood,  green  buds  were  forming  on  hedge 
and  tree ;  there  was  new  life  in  the  fresh,  cold,  bracing 
breeze ;  the  sky  was  blue  and  lear,  and  the  sun  shone. 
It  seemed  to  Silvia  as  though  Jl  things  living  shared  in 
her  happiness,  and  spoke  to  her  of  a  new  and  brighter 
life. 

Lingholrne  had  never  looked  so  fair.  When  she  left 
it  the  consciousness  of  shame  and  sorrow  had  hidden  the 
beauty  of  the  world  from  her,  as  a  dark  veil  spread  over 
the  fair  creation  would  have  done.  The  veil  was  remov- 
ed now;  she  could  see  the  beauty  of  earth  and  of  heaven. 
Sorrow  and  pain  existed  still  for  her,  but  not  shame  ; 
and  everything  else  seemed  easy  to  bare. 

It  was  on  the  third  day  after  their  arrival  that  the 
letter  came  telling  her  that  little  Cyril  would  be  at  Ling- 
holme  that  day.  Her  face  grew  perfectly  white  as  she 
read,  and  Mrs.  Greville,  looking  at  her  with  a  kindly 
smile,  said : 

"  Never  mind  keeping  np  appearances,  my  dear;  leave 
me,  and  go  and  prepare  for  him.  Perhaps,  if  I  had  a 
little  child,  I  might  have  loved  it  as  you  do  yours." 


246  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER   LV1. 

MRS.   GREVILLK'S   VISITOR. 

THE  February  evening  was  drawing  to  a  close ;  a  pur- 
ple light  lingered  over  the  trees  ;  the  sunshine  had  long 
since  faded ;  the  air  was  cool  and  fresh  with  the  fra- 
grance of  early  violets  and  the  sweet,  moist  woodlands. 
Surely,  under  the  broad,  blue  heavens,  on  the  face  of  the 
fair,  tranquil  earth  there  was  no  heart  so  impatient  as 
that  of  the  beautiful  young  mother,  who  was  pacing,  with 
rapid  footsteps,  the  western  terrace,  from  whence  she 
could  see  the  carriage-drive.  The  little  boy  was  to  reach 
Lingholme  at  five,  and  since  four  she  had  been  waiting 
for  him. 

She  had  prepared  a  little  room  by  the  side  of  her  own. 
She  had  prepared  his  little  bed.  Everything  that  a  moth- 
er's heart  could  suggest,  or  a  mother's  hand  could  do,  had 
been  done,  and  she  was  waiting  for  him  now  with  a  heart 
full  of  impatience.  It  seemed  to  her  that  every  hour 
was  an  age,  every  moment  an  hour.  The  light  was 
fading  in  the  western  skies — would  he  never  come  ? 

Suddenly  she  saw  the  carriage  turning  round  the  grand 
drive.  She  flew  rather  than  walked.  She  opened  the 
door.  She  cried  in  a  loud,  vehement  voice  : 

"  Cyril !  Cyril !   where  are  you?  " 

The  next  she  had  him  in  ner  arms.  She  covered  his 
face  with  kisses  and  tears ;  she  lavished  on  him  every 
fond  name,  every  tender  word,  every  loving  epithet, 
until  the  child  looked  up  at  her  in  wonder. 

"Do  I  frighten  you,  my  darling?"  she  cried.  The 
carriage  was  driven  on  to  the  house  then,  and  Cyril  was 
standing  under  the  chestnut  -  trees  in  the  grand  drive. 
She  had  flung  herself  on  her  knees  at  his  feet,  and  was 
clinging  to  him  with  a  loving,  passionate  clasp.  "  Do  I 
frighten  you,  my  darling?  "  she  asked  again.  "  My  heart 
hungered  for  one  look  at  you,  my  soul  seemed  thirsty 
Cyril,  call  me  '  mother '  --  say  '  mother  '  to  me,  so  that  I 
may  know  I  am  not  dreaming." 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  247 

The  child  clasped  his  arms  slowly  round  her  neck. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  gently,  "  I  am  so  pleased  to  be 
with  you  again." 

The  voice  seemed  to  pierce  her  heart  with  its  sweet, 
familiar  tones  —  it  was  Ulric's  voice.  It  had  the  same 
ring,  the  same  music,  the  self-same  accent  and  inflections. 
She  could  have  fancied  it  was  Ulric  who  spoke  to  her, 
and  she  looked  up,  with  a  low,  passionate  cry,  into  the 
child's  face. 

As  she  gazed,  her  own  grew  white  with  the  pallor  of 
death.  Was  fancy  playing  her  some  trick  ?  Were  her 
own  senses  deluding  her?  The  face  was  very  young, 
smooth  and  fair ;  but  it  was  Ulric  Rymer's  face  in  minia- 
ture. There  was  the  same  rich,  clustering  hair,  the  broad 
white  brow,  the  eloquent  eyes,  the  beautiful  lips,  the 
perfectly  molded  features.  One  drop  of  water  did  not 
resemble  another  more  closely  than  the  face  of  Cyril,  the 
eon,  resembled  that  of  Ulric  the  father. 

A  low  passionate  cry,  and  then  she  laid  her  head  on 
the  child's  breast. 

She  was  face  to  face  once  more  with  the  love  of  her 
heart,  the  love  of  her  youth. 

"  How  shall  I  live  and  look  on  him  ?  "  she  murmured. 

Then  the  child's  voice  roused  her. 

"  Mother,  those  tall  trees  almost  frighten  me.  See, 
they  are  bending  their  heads  as  though  they  were  going 
to  speak  to  me.  Shall  we  go  home  ?  " 

She  roused  herself  from  that  passionate  trance  of  an- 
guish,  and  took  the  little  hand  in  hers. 

"It  is  such  a  pretty  home,  Cyril,"  she  said,  gently. 
"  We  have  flowers  and  birds.  I  shall  find  a  pony  for 
you  to  ride." 

"  Is  it  our  home?  "  asked  the  child.     "  Is  it  yours? 

"No.  We  shall  have  a  home  some  day,  Cyril;  but 
this  is  not  ours.  It  belongs  to  a  very  good,  kind  lady 
who  will  be  pleased  to  see  you." 

The  mention  of  a  pony  quite  opened  the  child  8  heart. 
He  ran  by  his  mother's  side,  prattling  gayly,  telling  he.- 
all  his  school  experience,  his  play,  his  lessons,  forgetti 
to  be  shy,  only  remembering  that  she  was  the  d  - 
mother  he  had  longed  so  intensely  to  see.     Ferliajrt  it 


24:8  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

was  one  of  the  proudest  moments  of  her  life  when  she 
took  the  boy  into  Mrs.  Greville's  boudoir. 

The  mistress  of  Lingholme,  notwithstanding  all  her 
little  affectations,  was  a  kindty-  natured  lady.  She  gave 
the  little  stranger  the  warmest  welcome.  She  took  him 
in  her  arms,  and  kissed  the  beautiful  face,  then  looked 
BO  earnestly  at  it  that  Silvia  wondered. 

"  My  boy  does  not  resemble  me,"  she  said,  gently. 

"  No,  not  in  the  least ;  but  his  face  recalls  some  one  or 
other  to  my  mind  —  I  cannot  imagine  whom  it  is  like. 
Is  he  like  his  father  ?  " 

Then  for  one  half  moment  Silvia's  heart  stood  still. 
Would  it  hurt  him,  her  idolized  child,  to  say  that  he  had 
his  father's  face  ?  No,  for  she  was  his  father's  wife.  It 
was  half-proudly  half-sorrowfully  that  she  answered  : 

"/think  he  is.     There  seems  to  me  a  great  likeness." 

Mrs.  Greville  was  still  looking  at  the  child  with  the 
same  intent,  earnest  gaze. 

"I  cannot  remember  whom  it  is  that  he  resembles  so 
closely.  His  face  is  full  of  pleasant  associations  for  me. 
Was  your  husband  an  Englishman,  Silvia?" 

"Yes,  he  was  English,"  she  replied,  and  then  the 
matter  dropped ;  but  whenever  Mrs.  Greville's  eyes  fel\ 
upon  the  child  they  took  the  same  wondering  expression. 

For  a  few  days  Silvia  was  perfectly  happy  ;  she  almost 
forgot  her  troubles  in  the  presence  of  that  beloved  and 
beautiful  child.  With  an  anxious  heart  she  watched  his 
every  action,  and  listened  to  his  every  word.  There  was 
no  tint  of  selfishness  in  him.  Once  or  twice  she  had 
grown  half  faint  with  dread,  lest  having  his  father's  face 
he  should  inherit  his  faults  ;  but  she  saw  no  trace  of  them, 
and  from  the  depths  of  her  heart  she  thanked  God.  He 
was  a  brave,  generous,  unselfish  child,  full  of  noble  in- 
stincts and  good  impulses  ;  it  never  seemed  to  occur  to 
him  to  be  mean  or  selfish.  Mrs.  Greville  watched  him 
with  shrewd  amusement. 

;<  Your  boy  ought  to  be  a  prince,  Silvia,"  she  said, 
laughing.  "He  is  the  most  princely  child  I  ever  met; 
his  ideas  are  superb." 

Silvia  sighed.     A  prince !     Oh  1  if  she  could  only  give 


THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD.  249 

him  a  name  that  was  stainless  and  unsullied,  she  would 
ask  no  better  gift  from  Heaven  than  that. 

When  the  week  was  ended  Mrs.  Greville  was  the  first 
to  object  to  his  leaving  Lingholme. 

"  It  is  so  long  since  he  has  been  with  you,  let  him  stay 
now  that  he  is  here.  I  have  changed  my  mind  over  Lon- 
don ;  I  shall  not  go  yet.  Lady  Courcie  has  a  party  of 
friends  coming  to  the  Mount,  and  I  know  several  of 
them.  I  shall  stay  here  a  few  weeks  longer." 

Had  she  not  so  remained,  would  the  story  had  been 
different? 

So  it  was  arranged  by  general  consent  that  little  Cyril 
should  remain  until  they  went  to  London ;  then  his 
mother  could  take  him  to  school  herself. 

Two  days  afterward  came  an  invitation  that  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville had  expected,  for  her  to  go  to  the  Mount  to  meet 
Lady  Gourde's  friends. 

"  You  must  amuse  yourself  as  well  as  you  can,  my 
dear,"  she  said  to  Silvia.  "  I  suppose  you  will  want  noth- 
ing else,  now  that  you  have  the  boy." 

So  for  a  few  days  mother  and  child  were  inexpressibly 
happy  together;  then  came  a  note  from  Mrs.  Greville. 

"  I  shall  not  bo  at  home  until  Wednesday,"  it  ran, 
"  and  I  shall  bring  a  friend  with  me  —  Lady  Dynecourt. 
Her  husband  is  away  just  at  present,  and  she  is  not  very 
strong;  the  noise  and  excitement  of  a  large  party  are  too 
much  for  her.  I  have  asked  her  to  spend  a  few  days 
quietly  at  Lingholme.  Will  you  see  that  everything  is 
ready  for  her  ?  " 

Silvia  suddenly  remembered  the  photograph  of  the 
beautiful  face,  and  felt  pleased  at  the  prospect  of  seeing 
one  so  charming  as  she  felt  sure  Lady  Dynecourt  must 
be.  She  looked  forward  to  the  visit  as  to  a  new  source 
of  pleasure,  and  busied  herself  in  having  everything 
ready  for  the  expected  arrival. 

It  was  night  when  Mrs.  Greville  and  her  visitor^  arriv- 
ed. Little  Cyril  had  gone  to  sleep,  and^  Silvia  sat  in  the 
drawing-room  alone,  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  ladies. 
At  first  sight  she  was  charmed  with  Lady  Dynecourt- 
there  was  something  winning  and  noble  about  her  patri- 
eian  beauty;  yet,  to  Silvia's  keen  instinct,  there  was 


250  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

eomething  mournful  too.  She  was  mopt  gracious,  most 
charming,  most  amiable,  l>nt  despite  all  the  grace  and 
sweetness  there  was  an  undercurrent  of  melancholy. 

"  She  is  very  lovely,"  thought  Silvia,  "  very  graceful, 
but  I  am  sure  she  is  not  happy." 

Yet  not  one  word  fell  from  Lady  Dyneconrt's  lips  that 
could  be  taken  as  a  sign  of  melancholy.  She  joined  in 
all  conversations,  she  had  a  very  beautiful  smile,  a  most 
charming  fashion  of  seeming  to  give  her  AY  hole  attention 
to  every  one  who  claimed  it;  hut  Silvia  saw  underneath 
all  this  a  constant  current  of  sadness — a  constant  return 
to  some  secret  source  of  nnhappiness. 

Lady  Dvnecourt  was  quite  delighted  with  Silvia  ;  her 
beauty,  grace,  her  affectionate,  \varm-hearted  disposition 
seemed  to  have  a  great  attraction  for  her.  When  they 
parted  for  the  night,  she  held  Silvia's  hand  in  her  own. 

"  Mrs.  Greville  tells  me  yen  have  a  little  son  staying 
with  you,"  she  said,  wist  full  v. 

Something  in  her  face  made  Silvia  ask : 

"  Have  you  any  children,  Lady  Dynecourt?" 

The  beautiful  face  grew  pale. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  gently  ;  "  I  have  none." 


CHAPTER  LYII. 

A    STRANGE    RESEMBLANCE. 

THERE  is  nothing,  after  all,  so  limited  as  human  know- 
ledge. A  man  devotes  his  whole  life-time  to  the  study 
of  one  particular  star,  one  planet,  one  bird,  and  he  dies 
without  knowing  one  half  there  is  to  know.  Another 
gives  his  whole  thoughts  and  attention  to  the  solving  of 
a  problem,  yet  dies  lenving  it  unsolved.  Silvia  Kymer 
had  but  one  object  in  life — it  was  the  rinding  of  her  Wt 
lover.  She  was  under  the  same  roof  with  his  wife,  but, 
knew  no  more  of  it  th;in  did  Lady  Dynec<>urt,  in  her 
turn,  suspect  who  she  was.  They  were  fated  to  meet, 
and  they  had  met,  but  it  was  without  recognition.  The 
two,  both  betrayed  by  the  same  love,  had  crossed  each 
other's  paths  at  last. 


THROWN    ON    THE   WORLD.  251 

The  morning  after  her  arrival  Lady  Dynecourt  had 
gone  out  in  the  grounds  alone.  She  had  a  love,  almost 
amounting  to  a  passion,  for  trees,  and  from  the  windows 
of  her  room  she  had  caught  sight  of  the  beautiful  chest- 
nut drive  and  she  hastened  there.  Mrs.  Greville  was  far 
too  accomplished  a  hostess  to  dream  of  interference.  If 
her  guest  preferred  a  solitary  ramble,  it  seemed  to  her 
the  perfection  of  good  breeding  to  indulge  that  wish ;  so 
Lady  Clotilde  wandered  under  the  chestnuts,  feeling  more 
at  her  ease  and  happier  than  she  had  done  for  some  time. 
She  stopped  to  listen  to  the  faint  chirping  of  the  birds, 
to  watch  the  white  heads  of  the  pretty  snowdrops.  A 
faint  color  flushed  her  beautiful,  noble  face,  a  faint  smile 
played  round  her  lips.  Only  Heaven  knew  what  fair 
dreams  of  her  youth  returned  to  her  as  she  enjoyed  this 
hour  among  the  leafless  trees. 

The  sound  of  a  child's  laughter  struck  her,  a  burst  of 
melodious  laughter  that  seemed  to  cheer  and  brighten 
the  air  around.  She  looked  up  with  a  quick,  bright 
smile.  Like  many  childless  women,  she  had  a  passionate 
love  of  children.  In  the  far  distance  she  saw  a  little  boy 
at  play,  and  Mrs.  Bymer  was  just  crossing  the  drive  to  go 
to  him.  Lady  Clotilde  hastened  to  join  her. 

"  That  is  your  little  son  ?  "  she  said ;  and  Silvia  looked 
up  with  a  quick,  warm  flush. 

"  How  I  envy  you  !  "  continued  her  ladyship.  "  If  I 
had  been  offered  my  choice  between  the  wealth  of  all  the 
world  and  a  little  child,  I  would  have  chosen  the  child." 

Silvia's  beautiful  face,  full  of  sympathy,  was  raised  to 
hers. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  at  it,"  she  replied ;  "  there  is  no 
gift  of  Heaven  so  good." 

"  I  often  wonder  about  it,"  continued  Lady  Dynecourt. 
"I  read  such  shocking,  cruel  things  in  the  papers,  of 
children  killed  and  starved,  and  cruelly  treated!  If 
Heaven  had  only  trusted  one  to  me,  I  would  have  taken 
such  care  of  it — and  they  are  given  to  those  who  do  not 
care  for  them.  I  feel  tempted  sometimes  to  wonder  how- 
it  is." 

"  I  have  often  thought  of  it,  too,'^  said  Silvia ;  and 
they  walked  together  down  the  long  drive. 


252  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  To  me,  or  rather  in  my  case,"  said  Lady  Clotilde, 
"  it  seems  very  hard.  My  husband,  Lord  Dynecourt, 
longs  so  intensely  for  a  son  and  heir.  The  property 
at  his  death  passes  to  a  stranger,  one  of  the  branch  of 
the  family  whom  lie  dislikes ;  that  makes  it  so  much 
more  painful.  Every  allusion  to  the  future  makes  my 
heart  ache.  When  I  see  him  indifferent  over  anything 
connected  with  the  property,  I  think  directly  it  is  }. 
cause  a  stranger  must  step  in  where  his  son  should  tre;ic. 

"  It  must  be  a  great  trouble  to  you,"  said  Silvia  ;  "  i 
can  understand  it  so  well."  And  to  herself  she  thought : 
"  Every  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,  and  this  poor 
lady  knows  hers." 

She  grew  deeply  interested  in  Lady  Clotilde  ,  there 
was  something  so  winning,  so  lovable,  so  true  about  her. 
As  she  looked  at  the  beautiful  face,  she  caught  herself 
wondering  what  Lord  Dynecourt  was  like,  and  thinking 
how  very  dearly  he  must  love  this  gentle  wife  of  his — 
wondering,  too,  what  the  shadow  on  her  face  meant,  and 
why  it  was  there. 

Suddenly,  with  a  peal  of  childish  laughter,  little  Cyril 
ran  into  the  drive  toward  them.  Silvia  stooped  and  took 
him  in  her  arms ;  she  put  back  the  rich  cluster  of  hair 
from  his  brow,  and  then,  with  motherly  pride,  said : 

"  This  is  my  son,  Lady  Dynecourt." 

"What  had  happened  ? 

"What  was  there  in  the  childish,  beautiful  face  that 
seemed  to  hold  Lady  Dynecourt  entranced  ? 

She  had  grown  white  as  the  snowdrops,  and  in  her 
eyes  there  was  a  wondering,  piteous  look.  It  was  only  by 
a  violent  effort  that  she  aroused  herself. 

"  How  strange  you  must  think  me !  "  she  said  ;  "  but 
there  is  something  so  familiar  to  me  in  that  face  —  it 
seems  to  me  as  though  I  had  known  it  and  lived  with 
it." 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Silvia ;  "  but  Mrs.  Greville  said 
the  same  thing." 

The  pallor  deepened  on  Lady  Clotilde's  face. 

"  Has  she  said  so?  Has  she  noticed  it?"  she  asked 
breathlessly. 

"  Noticed  what  ?  "  asked  Silvia,  in  amaze. 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  253 

Then  Lady  Clotilde  remembered  herself. 

"  I  mean  —  does  she,  too,  fancy  that  she  can  trace  a 
resemblance  to  some  one  she  knows?  " 

"  So  she  says,"  replied  Silvia. 

Lady  Clotilde  sat  down  on  one  of  the  garden  chairs, 
and  took  little  Cyril  on  her  knee.  Eagerly,  anxiously, 
with  wistful,  wondering  eyes,  she  scanned  each  feature 
of  his  face.  There  could  be  no  mistake  about  it;  fancy 
was  not  misleading  her,  nor  was  imagination  deceiving 
her. 

The  face  into  which  she  gazed  so  earnestly  resembled 
that  of  her  husband,  Basil,  Lord  Dynecourt,  exactly  as 
one  drop  of  water  resembles  another. 

She  could  not  account  for  it.  Of  course  it  must  be 
purely  accidental ;  yet,  was  there  ever  anything  so  start- 
ling? the  very  line  of  the  clustering  curls,  they  fell  from 
the  brow  in  precisely  the  same  fashion ;  the  color  of  his 
eyes,  the  drooping  of  the  long  lashes;  there  could  be  no 
more  perfect  resemblance.  Of  course  it  was  accidental, 
yet  it  hurt  her  with  a  strange  pain. 

"Why  should  a  stranger's  child  wear  his  face,  while  her 
arms  were  empty?  Lady  Clotilde  sighed  deeply,  and 
warm  bright  tears  filled  her  eyes. 

"  Has  your  little  boy's  father  been  long  dead  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  It  is  six  years  now  since  I  lost  him,"  said  Silvia, 
evasively. 

Had  he  relatives  in  England?  Was  he  an  English- 
man? asked  Lady  Clotilde,  and  her  eyes  seemed  as 
though  they  would  pierce  every  thought  in  Silvia's  heart. 

She  was  able  to  answer  with  truth,  that  she  had  never 
heard  her  husband  speak  of  his  relatives. 

"  You  loved  him  very  dearly  ?  "  said  Lady  Clotilde, 
gently. 

A  warm  flush  rose  to  the  beautiful  face. 

"  I  loved  him  ten  thousand  times  more  dearly  than  my 
own  life,"  replied  Silvia. 

Ahl  that  is  the  right  way  to  love.  I  have  an  opinion 
my  own,  and  that  opinion  is,  there  is  no  equality  in 
love.  One  gives  all,  another  reserves  all.  I  do  not 


254  THROWN    ON   THK    WORLD. 

think  it  possible  to  find  husband  and  wife  who  have  an 
equal  love  for  each  other." 

"  Even  that  doctrine  is  not  so  terrible  as  some  of  Mrs. 
Greville's,"  replied  Silvia,  with  a  smile ;  "  she  disbelieves 
in  love  altogether." 

"  Therein  she  is  mistaken ;  much  happiness  may  sprinr 
from  it,  but  it  would  be  a  wretched  world  without  it." 

Still  she  never  put  the  child  down,  or  ..ok  her  eyes 
from  his  face. 

She  asked  his  name,  and  he  looked  at  her  as  he  replied  : 

"  Cyril  Kymer." 

Ah  1  even  the  very  tone  of  the  childish  voice !  Was  it 
a  mockery  ?  She  could  have  imagined  that  Lord  Dyne- 
court  stood  speaking. 

"  I  cannot  help  thinking,"  she  said  to  Silvia,  "  that  I 
must  know  some  of  yonr  husband's  relatives — this  face 
and  voice  are  so  familiar.  Did  you  know  anything  of 
your  husband's  family  ?  " 

It  was  a  relief  to  answer  truthfully — no,  that  she  did 
not.  She  began  to  wonder  at  Lady  Clotilde's  strange 
manner.  Of  whom  or  what  did  he  remind  her?  Her 
eyes  almost  asked  the  question,  and  Lady  Dynecourt  saw 
it;  she  tried  to  repress  her  eagerness  and  her  curiosity ; 
she  talked  to  the  little  one,  and  listened  with  delight  to 
his  pretty  answers. 

"  Why,  Cyril,"  she  said,  "  you  will  soon  be  a  man." 

"  I  wish  it  were  now,"  he  replied ;  "  then  I  could 
always  take  care  of  mamma." 

"  You  love  your  mamma  so  much? "  said  Lady  Dyno 
court,  wistfully. 

"  She  is  all  I  have  in  the  world,"  replied  the  child 
with  unconscious  pathos  ;  "  I  cannot  help  loving  her." 

"  If  he  were  but  mine !  "  said  Lady  Clotllde.  "  I 
would  give  all  my  money,  Cyril — everything  that  I  have, 
in  the  world  —  for  a  little  boy  like  you." 

He  laughed,  as  though  the  idea  of  another  little  bqy 
just  like  himself  were  a  great  joke ;  then  Silvia  told  him 
to  run  away,  he  would  tire  the  lady. 

The  child  looked  up  into  the  wistful  face  with  a 
smile ;  he  clasped  his  little  arms  round  Lady  Clotilde'a 
neek. 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  255 

"  You  are  a  beautiful  lady,"  he  said  ;  "  I  love  you 
very  much." 

She  kissed  him,  then  let  him  down,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes.  She  rose  abruptly,  and  walked  away.  Silvia  did 
not  follow  her;  she  seemed  by  instinct  to  understand 
that  the  beautiful,  unhappy  lady  would  prefer  to  be 
alone. 

But  after  that  morning  it  was  wonderful  to  see  how 
fond  Lady  Dynecourt  became  of  the  boy;  she  was  al- 
ways asking  for  him,  always  begging  to  have  him  with 
her.  "  I  shall  hope  to  see  little  Cyril  in  London,"  she 
said.  "  You  must  be  kind  to  me,  Mrs.  Bytner,  and  let  me 
have  him  for  a  whole  week  to  myself." 

And  Silvia,  who  would  have  done  anything  to  console 
and  comfort  her,  laughingly  promised  that  she  should 
have  him  whenever  she  wished. 

They  little  dreamed  that  it  was  to  his  own  father's 
house  the  child  had  been  invited  —  the  house  that,  if 
right  prevailed,  must  one  day  be  his. 


CHAPTER  LYIII. 

PUZZLING     QUESTIONS, 

THAT  marriage  is  a  lottery,  is  a  true  saying ;  that  some 
draw  rich  prizes,  others  bitter  blanks,  is  equally  trite  and 
true.  The  world  had  not  quite  made  up  its  mind  as  to 
the  result  of  Lady  Clctilde's  marriage.  Some,  who  look- 
ed no  deeper  than  the  surface,  declared  it  to  be  a  happy 
one.  Lord  and  Lady  Dynecourt  were  generally  seen  to- 
gether; no  one  ever  heard  an  unpleasant  or  disagreeable 
word  pass  between  them ;  the  gentleman  was,  to  all 
appearances,  kind,  considerate,  and  attentive,  the  lady 

"  It  was  sad  that  Lord  Dynecourt  would  have  no  heir," 
every  one  agreed  on  that  point ;  but  "  every  heart  knows 
its  own  bitterness,"  and  Lady  Clotilde  knew  the  height 
and  depth. 

She  had  married  Lord  Dynecourt  because  she  loved 
him,  and  she  looked  forward  to  a  kind  of  ideal  happiness 


256  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLB. 

with  him.  She  saw  only  the  better  and  brighter  side  of 
his  character ;  she  was  disposed  to  make  a  hero  of  him. 
She  did  not  think  it  possible  that  he  should  be  anything 
except  good  and  great.  She  loved  him  exceedingly. 
She  had  been  greatly  admired,  sought  after;  she  had 
had  many  lovers,  but  the  only  man  who  ever  touched  her 
heart  was  Basil,  Lord  Dynecourt ;  she  never  cared  for 
another." 

There  never  was  a  marriage  that  gave  greater  promise 
of  turning  out  well ;  they  were  both  young,  gifted  with 
beauty,  wealth,  and  rank  —  everything  that  could  make 
life  desirable ;  the  future  before  them  seemed  bright  as 
the  sun  that  shone  on  their  wedding-day  —  there  was  no 
cloud  to  dim  its  radiance. 

How,  then,  had  such  a  marriage  prospered  ?  "  Excel- 
lently !  "  said  the  world.  What  said  Lady  Clotilde  ? 
Even  to  her  own  self  she  shrunk  from  owning  the  truth 
— that  she  was  disappointed  ;  that  she  was  unhappy  ; 
that  a  something  without  a  name — a  shadow — had  grown 
between  her  husband  and  herself;  a  distance,  a  coldness 
that  increased  as  the  days  went  on.  She  could  not  ex- 
plain it;  she  could  not  tell  how  it  was;  ehe  could  not 
remember  even  when  it  had  begun.  She  could  not  trace 
the  first  origin  of  that  coldness  and  chill  sense  of  dis- 
appointment that  so  soon  destroyed  her  happiness.  Was 
it  that  she  fancied  he  did  not  give  to  her  the  same  super- 
abundant, grand,  generous  love  that  she  gave  to  him? 
Was  it  that  she  found  him  less  noble,  less  heroic,  more 
commonplace  than  she  had  fancied  he  would  be?  Was 
it  because,  at  times,  in  the  hush  and  the  dead  of  night, 
she  heard  the  name  of  another  woman  on  his  lips,  and 
heard  him  murmur  words  of  endearment,  such  as  he 
never  addressed  to  her  ? 

She  remembered  so  well  the  time  that  happened  first 
— how  she  had  listened  to  him  with  a  beating  heart,  and 
when  morning  dawned,  had  said  to  him  : 

"  Basil,  did  you  dream  of  me  last  night?  " 

Laughing  at  the  question  and  anxious  face,  he  answer- 
ed: 

"  No ;  I  ought  to  be  ashamed,  perhaps,  at  the  confes- 
sion, but  I  really  did  not." 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  257 

"  "Whom  were  you  calling  '  love,'  and  speakiuo-  so 
gently  to,  then  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  that  I  ever  talked  in  my  sleep,"  he 
replied,  hastily. 

"  You  did  ;  you  often  do.  Basil,  do  not  be  afraid  to 
tell  me  ;  did  you  love  any  one  before  you  met  me  ?  " 

He  answered  by  a  careless  laugh. 

*'  Why,  ClotiMe,  what  a  question  !  I  was  not  a  statue, 
neither  did  I  live  in  a  desert,  and  men,  my  dear,  are  but 
men." 

"  That  is  no  answer  to  my  question,"  she  said,  wonder- 
ing at  the  evasion.  "  Did  you  love  any  one  before  you 
knew  me  ? " 

"  I  may  safely  say,  Clotilde,  that  I  lived  in  a  chronic 
state  of  being  in  love  from  the  time  I  was  seven  years 
old  until  now." 

"  I  never  thought  of  you  as  such  a  general  lover,"  she 
said,  slightly  piqued. 

"Did  you  not?  Why,  Lady  Clotilde  I  wonder  that 
you  have  never  discovered  my  weakness  before." 

"  You  will  not  answer  my  question,"  she  said.  "  You 
will  not  tell  me  whether  you  really  loved  any  one  before 
you  loved  me." 

Again  the  careless  laugh  that  jarred  upon  her  feelings, 
that  hurt  her  as  a  physical  pain,  then  he  replied,  gayly : 

"  Of  course  I  never  cared  for  any  one  one-thousandth 
part  as  much  as  I  care  for  you ;  "  but  the  ring  of  the 
words  was  false,  she  felt  that  the  words  themselves  were 
false,  and  from  that  hour  a  dark  shadow,  slowly,  but 
surely,  arose  between  them. 

She  was  too  noble  a  woman  to  yield  to  curiosity;  she 
might  have  listened  to  his  dreaming  words;  she  might 
have  looked  among  his  papers;  she  might  have  played 
the  spy  upon  him  in  a  hundred  different  ways,  but  she 
was  far  too  noble  for  that. 

The  grand  dream  of  her  life  was  destroyed,  she  could 
no  longer  delude  herself  into  thinking  that  she  was  the 
sole  object  of  her  husband's  love.  Cruel  doubt  and  jeal- 
ousy had  began  what  is  always  fatal  work ;  and  though 
she  would  never  own  it  even  to  herself,  Lady  Dynecourt's 
short  dream  of  happiness  was  at  an  end. 


258  THROWN   ON   THE   WORT/D. 

If  the  desire  of  he.rhejirt  I.;;-!  been  given  to  her;  if  she, 
had  had  little  children  to  lon>,  and  to  love  her,  she  would 
not  perhaps  have  dwelled  .«<•  continually  on  this  one  theme  ; 
her  thoughts  would  have  been  better  and  brighter.  Her 
dream  had  always  been  one  of  love,  and  no  other. 

Women  feel  nothing  more  keenly  than  the  gradual 
downfall  of  an  idol.  Lady  Clotilde  had  made  an  ideal 
hero  of  her  lover,  in  her  girlish,  romantic  fashion ;  she 
had  endowed  him  with  grand  and  noble  qualities;  she 
had  to  watch  these  ideal  qualities  disappear,  one  by  one; 
she  had  thought  him  the  very  soul  of  truth  and  honor ; 
she  had  to  find  out  that  he  was  no  more  truthful  than 
other  men ;  that  though  perhaps  he  would  have  scorned 
what  the  world  calls  a  lie,  he  was  guilty  of  the  same 
evasions,  the  same  equivocations  as  other  people.  He 
was  in  fact,  no  hero,  and  after  a  time  she  was  obliged  to 
own  that  to  herself. 

The  thing,  perhaps,  that  startled  her  most,  was  his  light 
way  of  speaking  of  things  she  held  in  the  highest  honor. 
Love  was  but  a  jest,  inconstancy,  rather  a  subject  of  pride 
than  otherwise ;  infidelity,  a  mere  matter  of  course  ;  and 
when  once  or  twice  she  had  shown  him  plainly  that  she 
did  not  like  to  hear  such  sentiments  he  had  laughed  and 
called  her  a  pretty  prnde. 

"  You  make  life  a  tragedy,  Clotilde,"  he  said  to  her, 
"  and  it  was  never  intended  for  anything  but  a  farce." 

"  You  dishonor  what  I  honor  most,"  she  said,  coldly. 

Yet,  despite  this  intangible  difference,  this  something 
without  a  name,  there  was  never  any  open  disagreement 
between  them.  Lady  Clotildo  was  not  the  only  one  con- 
demned to  see  her  life  laid  bare  and  waste ;  she  bore  it 
with  patient  dignity,  she  made  no  murmur,  no  complaint. 
Did  she  love  her  husband  the  less?  Those  who  under- 
stand a  woman's  heart  best  can  answer  the  question. 

The  strange  likeness  existing  between  the  child  and 
her  husband  puzzled  her.  Mrs.  "Rymer's  husband  must 
have  been  related  to  her  husband's  family.  Perhaps  he 
was  one  of  the  poorer,  younger  branch.  She  resolved  to 
lose  no  time  in  making  inquiries.  It  would  have  been  a 
source  of  greatest  pleasure  to  her  if  she  could  have  traced 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  259 

the  least  relationship  between  her  husband  and  this  boy 
— it  might  lead  to  his  being  adopted  by  Lord  Dynecourt. 

So  she  asked  Silvia  many  puzzling  questions,  and  it 
was  well  that  she  had  really  never  heard  her  husband 
mention  his  family.  Lady  Clotilde  said  to  her  one  day : 

"  It  seems  strange  that  your  husband  should  never  have 
mentioned  his  family  or  connections  to  you." 

"It  is  strange,"  said  Silvia;  "but  it  is  quite  true." 

"  I  suppose,"  continued  Lady  Clotilde,  "  that  you  were 
all  the  world  to  each  other  ?  " 

"  Until  I  lost  him,"  said  Silvia,  "  that  we  most  certain- 
ly were." 

Lady  Dynecourt  resolved  in  her  own  mind  that  she 
would  not  rest  until  she  had  done  something  worth  doing 
for  the  beautiful  widow  and  her  little  boy. 


CHAPTEE  LIX. 

THE   SEARCH. 

souls  are  quick  to  recognize  each  other.  Lady 
Clotilde  Dynecourt  had  met  no  one  who  seemed  to  her 
so  pleasing,  so  good,  or  so  noble  as  this  companion  of 
Mrs.  Greville's.  She  knew  no  one  else  whose  merits 
seemed  to  her  so  great.  There  was  a  rectitude  of  princi- 
ple, a  purity  of  thought,  an  inmate  nobility  and  grandeur 
of  soul  that  drew  her  insensibly,  as  with  the  greatest 
charm. 

She  enjoyed  no  society  more  than  that  of  this  simple, 
beautiful  woman,  who  had  educated  herself,  and  whose 
refinement  was  one  of  her  greatest  charms.  She  visited 
constantly  at  Mrs.  Greville's,  and  the  gay  widow  was  not 
in  the  least  jealous,  though  she  saw  plainly  that  Silvia 
was  the  attraction  for  Lady  Dynecourt,  and  not  herself. 
She  would  even  laugh  at  it  in  her  good-tempered  way 
and  say : 

"  Ah !  Silvia,  you  are  just  sentimental  enough  to  suit 
Lady  Dynecourt.  1  am  too  matter-of-fact  for  her." 

Lady  Dynecourt  never  seemed  to  remember  the  differ- 
ence in  position.  She  could  not  have  treated  Silvia  with 


260  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLH. 

greater  respect  and  affection  had  she  been  her  own  sister, 
and  Silvia,  on  her  part,  was  quite  as  warmly  attached  to 
her.  They  did  not  seem  to  weary  of  each  other's  society, 
although  they  spent  many  hours  together. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Greville's  arrangements  took  a  settled 
shape,  Silvia  began  to  make  inquiries.  She  never  by  any 
chance  heard  the  name  of  Kymer.  Nor  was  it  likely, 
she  thought  to  herself,  that  he  would  move  in  such 
circles.  How  bitterly  she  regretted  not  having  asked 
more  about  his  family  or  himself !  She  had  not  quite 
decided  what  steps  to  U:,ke  if  she  found  him.  She  would 
only  claim  the  truth.  She  would  compel  him  to  own 
that  the  marriage  had  been  valid,  and  that  she  was  his 
lawful  wife. 

With  that  she  would  be  content ;  she  wanted  no  more. 
If  he  would  offer  her  the  wealth  of  the  whole  world  she 
would  not  touch  it.  She  asked  nothing  from  him  but 
justice,  and  that,  for  her  child's  sake,  she  was  determined 
to  have. 

Yet  there  were  times  when  her  heart  sunk  at  what 
seemed  the  useless  search.  As  well  seek  one  particular 
grain  of  sand  from  a  crowded  beach,  as  look  in  England 
for  one  man,  with  no  other  clew  than  a  name,  and  that 
name  in  all  probability  an  assumed  one. 

So,  while  every  day  of  her  life  she  spent  two  or  three 
hours  with  his  wife,  while,  without  knowing  it,  she  had 
his  name  on  her  lips  a  dozen  times  each  day,  she  was 
wondering  when  and  how  to  begin  her  search  i'or  him. 

"I  want  nothing  from  him,"  she  said  to  herself,  over 
and  over  again.  "  I  shall  never  intrude  on  his  presence, 
but  I  must,  for  Cyril's  sake,  make  him  do  me  justice.1' 

She  could  not  account  for  the  idea  that  had  taken- 
possession  of  her  that  London  was  the  place  to  search 
for  him  ;  she  could  not  account  for  the  impression,  yet 
it  was  strong  upon  her.  One  morning  an  idea  suddenly 
occurred  to  her  that  she  could  look  in  a  London  Direc- 
tory and  see  if  among  the  "  Kymers  "  there  was  any  one 
likely  to  be  he.  The  idea  seemed  to  her  almost  like 
an  inspiration.  An  hour  after  it  had  first  occurred  to  her, 
she  was  standing  in  a  stationer's  shop  with  an  open  direc- 
tory before  her. 


THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD.  261 

There  were  many  "  Kymers,"  shopkeepers  of  all  kinds 
— tradesmen,  doctors,  one  clergyman,  and  one  lawyer — 
"  II.  Kymer,  Thavies  Inn."  She  laid  the  book  down,  for 
her  trembling  hands  could  not  hold  it.  "  U.  Rymer."  U. 
was  for  Ulric,  most  certainly — then  she  had  found  him. 
It  seemed  to  her  most  probable  that  he  was  a  lawyer, 
though  sh°  could  not  account  for  the  idea. 

U.  Rymer.  Again  and  again  she  looked  at  the  name 
— a  thousand  doubts,  a  thousand  wishes,  a  thousand  fears 
coining  over  her.  Nothing  could  give  him  back  to  her, 
nothing  could  restore  to  her  the  hero  of  her  youth,  the 
love  of  her  girlhood  ;  but  she  might  have  justice  for  her- 
self and  her  child.  She  would  go,  then,  and  if  this  U. 
Rymer  should  be  the  man  who  had  married  and  deserted 
her,  she  would  claim  that  justice  from  him. 

She  was  too  purely  earnest,  too  single-minded  to  have 
any  thought  of  harm,  or  to  see  anything  unusual  in  such 
a  visit ;  so  one  morning,  when  Mrs.  Greville  was  busily 
engaged  with  some  fashionable  friends,  Silvia  resolved 
upon  the  journey.  She  took  a  cab,  and  ordered  the 
driver  to  take  her  to  Thavies  Inn.  She  had  not  much 
knowledge  of  London,  and  had  rather  expected  to  find  a 
large,  imposing  building.  It  was  with  something  like 
wonder  she  gazed  at  the  long,  narrow,  dark  mass  of  build- 
ings. 

"  Are  you  sure,"  she  asked  the  cabman,  "  that  this  is 
Thavies  Inn  ?  " 

He  laughed  at  the  surprise  so  legible  on  that  beautiful 
face. 

"  Thavies  Inn,  sure  enough,  miss,"  he  replied ;  "  and 
not  a  very  cheerful-looking  place  either." 

It  did  not  look  to  her  like  a  fitting  abode  for  the 
beauty,  luxury-loving  U.  Rymer  she  had  known  —  the 
man  who  found  fault  with  the  hue  of  a  rose  if  it  did  not 
satisfy  him,  and  the  light  of  the  stars  if  he  deemed  it  too 
pale.  Still,  she  was  there,  and  she  resolved  to  verify  her 
suspicions." 

She  looked  up  at  the  house  No.  102  —  a  tall,  dark, 
narrow  tenement,  the  windows  of  which  had  probably 
not  been  cleaned  for  years.  The  house  looked  dirty,  the 
stairs  were  narrow  and  worn.  Her  attention  was  arrested 


£62  THBOWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

by  the  names  on  the  door.  There  was  a  Mr.  Buckthorne, 
agent  for  some  great  pottery  establishment ;  Mr.  Clyne, 
accountant;  Messrs.  Fairbrothers,  importers;  Mr.  U.  Ry- 
mer,  solicitor.  She  read  no  further;  drawing  her  dress 
around  her,  she  went  up  the  stairs.  Such  a  staircase  !  — 
pieces  of  paper,  string,  wisps  of  hay  all  tossing  about. 
Ah,  surely  Ulric,  her  refined  poet  lover,  could  not  live 
here ;  she  felt  almost  ashamed  of  her  expedition  and 
inclined  to  turn  back ;  besides  which,  she,  was  bewildered. 
Where  was  the  office  ? 

At  that  moment  a  tall,  well-dressed  man  hastened  by. 
Silvia  looked  at  him  in  such  evident  distress  he  stopped 
abruptly. 

"Can  you  tell  me  where  I  shall  find  Mr.  Rymer's 
office  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Rymer's  ? "  he  repeated.  "  I  have  just  come  from 
there ;  the  third  door  to  the  right  on  the  next  floor." 

She  went  up  another  flight  of  stairs,  more  narrow  and 
more  gloomy  than  the  last,  and  there  before  her  she  saw 
the  name  that  for  her  had  once  been  woven  in  magical 
letters  of  gold  —  U.  Rymer.  The  door  of  the  office  was 
closed,  and  there  was  no  sound. 

What  lay  on  the  other  side  ?  When  that  door  opened 
should  she  see  the  handsome,  patrician  face  of  the  man 
she  believed  now  to  be  her  husband,  or  would  it  be  the 
face  of  a  stranger  ?  Her  heart  beat  so  fast  as  she  asked 
herself  the  question,  that  it  seemed  to  her  all  strength 
was  failing  her.  That  coward  fear  was  useless,  she  said 
to  herself  over  and  over  again,  yet  she  still  stood  trem- 
bling there,  uncertain  what  to  do. 

Then,  with  a  resolute  hand,  she  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  strange  voice,  and  Silvia  opened 
the  door. 

At  first  a  great,  red  mist  lay  over  everything,  and  she 
could  distinguish  nothing  plainly.  It  faded  away,  and 
then  Silvia  saw  a  gentleman — a  stranger — seated  before  a 
small,  square  table.  He  looked  at  the  beautiful  face  in 
startled  wonder. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Ryraer,"  Silvia  said,  in  a  faint, 
trembling  voice. 

"  I   am  Mr.  Rymer,"   he  replied,  rising  with    a   low 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  203 

bow.     "  What   can   I   have   the   pleasure  of   doing   for 
you?" 

"  You  are  Mr.  Rymer !  "  she  repeated.  Ah  !  no ;  it 
was  not  he.  Thank  Heaven,  it  was  not  her  Mr.  Rymer  ! 
She  thought  to  herself  that  if  the  well -loved,  the  well- 
remembered  face  had  risen  before  her  she  should  have 
fallen  back  dead. 

She  looked  at  him  steadily;  the  agitation  and  emotion 
died  away.  "  I  have  to  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  made  a  mistake.  I  am  looking  for  a  Mr.  Rymer  I 
knew  years  ago,  and  seeing  your  address,  I  ventured  to 
call.  I  am  sorry  I  have  intruded." 

A  frank,  kindly  smile  answered  her  —  the  smile  of  a 
kindly,  honest  man. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said,  "  that  I  do  not  happen  to 
be  the  Mr.  Rymer  you  are  in  search  of ;  but  I  am  a 
lawyer.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  to  assist  you  in  your 
search — any  advice  that  I  can  offer  ?  " 

He  placed  a  chair  for  her  and  his  manner  was  so  kind, 
so  respectful,  so  reassuring,  that  Silvia  took  it  at  once. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  replied,  wearily,  "that  advice 
can  be  of  any  use  to  me.  I  lost  sight  of — of  my  friend, 
and  the  only  clew  I  have  is  the  name — Rymer." 

"  It  is  not  a  common  name,"  said  the  lawyer. 

She  looked  at  him  wistfully. 

"  It  is  not,  and  that  has  made  me  more  hopeful  of  find- 
ing him." 

"  There  are  few  Rymers  in  London,"  he  continued ; 
"  but  the  name,  as  I  said  before,  is  a  good  one." 

Silvia  looked  at  him,  her  beautiful  face  wearing  its 
most  candid  expression. 

"  I  have  not  thought  yet,"  she  said,  "  whether  I  shall 
seek  for  help  in  my  search  or  not.  I  will  think  it  over 
and  decide.  If  I  decide  to  ask  for  help  at  all,  I  will  come 
again  for  yours." 

"  And  you  shall  have  it,"  he  replied. 

So  they  parted,  each  pleased  with  the  other.  It  was 
not  until  she  reached  home  again  that  Silvia  knew  how 
great  to  her  was  the  relief  that  in  Mr.  Rymer,  solicitor, 
she  had  not  found  her  husband. 


264  THBOWN   ON   THE    WOBLD. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

ANXIOUS    TO    SEE   LORD   DYNECOUKT. 

"  You  may  rely  upon  one  thing,  Silvia,"  said  Lady 
Dynecourt,  "  that  no  true  lady,  no  true  wife,  no  true 
woman,  ever  speaks  of  her  husband  to  a  third  person. 
The  secrecy  of  home  ought  to  be  honorably  kept." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  replied  Silvia. 

"  I  have  met  ladies  —  indeed,  I  meet  with  them  every 
day — who  make  their  husbands'  faults  and  peculiarities  a 
common  topic  of  discussion.  No  matter  how  clever, 
how  talented,  how  brilliant  they  are,  when  I  find  that  to 
be  the  case,  I  never  like  them  again." 

The  two  were  seated  in  Mrs.  Greville's  boudoir.  A 
warm  and  sincere  attachment  had  sprung  up  between 
them,  and  Lady  Dynecourt  has  few  greater  pleasures  in 
Jife  than  her  constant  intimacy  with  Silvia. 

It  was  a  strange  fate  that  brought  them  together. 
Surely  a  very  caricature  of  fate.  A  cruel  kind  of  irony 
that  had  bound  these  two  in  ties  of  warm  and  true  affec- 
tion. 

The  London  season  was  corning  to  an  end  now,  and, 
despite  Silvia's  efforts,  she  was  no  nearer  finding  any 
traces  of  her  lost  husband.  She  had  done  all  she  could, 
all  that  the  most  diligent  inquiries  could  effect,  but  she 
had  not  made  the  least  progress  in  what  would  now 
become  to  her  the  great  object  in  her  life. 

After  thinking  the  matter  well  over  she  decided  not  to 
seek  for  legal  assistance.  If  she  did  that,  she  would  have 
to  part  with  the  secret  she  had  kept  so  well ;  and  that  was 
not  all,  the  law  was  a  mighty  machine,  and,  if  once  set  in 
action,  it  was  impossible  to  t<'ll  Avhen  it  might  stop;  it 
might  even  bring  down  deadly  peril  on  the  head  of 
him,  whom,  despite  all,  she  would  have  died  to  pave. 
So  she  had  written  a  note  to  the  solicitor  telling  him  that 
she  should  not  require  any  assistance  —  a  note  that  he 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  265 

was  sorry  to  receive,  for  he  had  taken  a  sudden  interest 
in  his  beautiful  visitor. 

A  blank  feeling  Of  despair  came  over  her  as  the  season 
came  to  an  end,  and  still  she  had  made  no  progress. 
What  if  it  were  always  so  ?  What,  if  despite  her  thirst 
for  justice,  her  longing  for  Cyril's  welfare,  what  if  she 
never  found  him,  never  saw  him  again  ?  The  bare  idea 
turned  her  head  sick  and  faint  with  an  unutterable  dread. 
What  if  the  knowledge  of  the  validity  of  her  marriage 
had  come  too  late  ? 

The  world  seemed  too  large,  and  not  only  large  but  so 
wide,  so  cold,  so  cruel,  how  was  she  from  the  thousands 
of  living  men  to  find  this  one  ?  Could  it  be  possible  that 
she  was  to  return  to  Lingholme  in  the  same  blank,  uncer- 
tain state?  Of  all  things  that  seemed  to  her  the  most 
unendurable. 

As  the  days  passed  on  the  beautiful  face  lost  its  color, 
and  a  weary,  wistful  expression  came  into  the  sad,  sweet 
eyes  Mrs.  Greville  noticed  it,  but  said  nothing.  She 
had  long  seen  that  all  such  importunities  only  wearied 
Silvia.  Lady  Dynecourt  noticed  it,  and  in  her  sweet, 
womanly  way  did  her  best  to  cheer  and  console  her. 

Several  ladies  had  met  accidently  that  morning  in  Mrs. 
Greville' s  drawing-room,  and  Lady  Dynecourt  was  one 
of  them.  The  conversation  had  turned  upon  husbands, 
their  faults  and  peculiarities,  and  the  best  method  of 
management.  Mrs.  Greville  had  listened  and  talked  with 
the  good-humored  cynicism  that  was  natural  to  her;  Lady 
Dynecourt  had  preserved  a  dignified  silence  that  was  full 
of  rebuke. 

When  the  conversation  became  quite  distasteful  to  her, 
under  pretense  at  looking  at  some  flowers  in  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville's boudoir,  she  went  there,  and  Silvia  followed  her. 
It  was  then  that  Lady  Dynecourt  uttered  the  words  with 
which  our  chapter  opens. 

Talking  of  her  husband  was  the  last  fault  any  one  could 
have  found  with  the  dignified  and  noble  Lady  Clotilde. 
When  she  mentioned  Lord  Dynecourt's  name  it  was 
always  with  the  greatest  respect,  a  course  of  proceeding 
that  led  others  to  respect  him.  Nor  did  she  scruple  to 
express  her  opinion  pretty  candidly  of  those  ladies  who 


THROWN    ON   THE    WOBLD. 

betrayed  what  she  called  the  honorable  secrecy  of  home. 
That  morning  many  little  things  had  been  s;iid  that  pained 
her.  Lord  Dynecourt  was  still  ,abroad.  He  hud  been  in 
Austria  several  months,  on  some  diplomatic  lmr-5m\<s.  At 
first  it  was  thought  that  his  absence  would  merely  he  a 
matter  of  a  few  weeks,  but  weeks  became  months,  and 
still  he  was  detained.  One  or  two  of  the  ladies  had,  as 
they  thought,  very  gently,  and  delicately  opened  Lady 
Clothilde's  eyes  by  telling  her  how  strange  this  prolonged 
absence  seemed ;  and  though  each  word  pierced  her  heart 
like  the  sharpest  dagger,  she  was  too  proud  to  answer  so 
much  as  by  a  look ;  but  when  she  was  alone  with  Silvia 
her  indignation  had  found  vent  in  words,  and  then  Silvia 
discovered  now  deeply  and  passionatly  the  proud,  noble 
lady  loved  her  husband.  Silvia  looked  at  her  with  uncon- 
scious reverence. 

"  How  much  I  should  like  to  see  your  husband,  Lady 
Dynecourt,"  she  said,  earnestly. 

The  noble  face  softened  as  the  lady  asked  : 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  should  so  much  like  to  see  one  who  could 
•win  such  a  great  love  from  you.  I  should  imagine  him 
to  be  a  prince  among  men." 

She  did  not  understand  the  passing  shadow  that  seem- 
ed to  linger  on  Lady  Clotilde's  face,  or  the  wistful  look 
that  was  so  near  akin  to  tears. 

Lady  Dynecourt  smiled  as  she  replied  : 

"  It  is  given  to  some  women  to  love  deeply,  and  to  love 
but  once  —  it  was  so  given  to  me." 

"  But  how  few,  like  you,"  said  the  unconscious  girl, 
"  find  one  so  entirely  worth  loving !  I  should,  indeed, 
like  to  see  Lord  Dynecourt." 

Those  few  words  seemed  to  draw  them  even  nearer  to 
each  other.  Any  praise,  even  unconscious,  as  was  Sil- 
via's, given  to  her  idolized  husband  delighted  Lady 
Dynecourt." 

"  In  all  probability,"  she  said,  "  your  wish  will  be 
granted.  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  Lord  Dyne- 
court  will  be  in  London  in  less  than  three  weeks." 

Little  did  they  dream  what  that  coming  home  would 


THROWN    ON    THE   WOKLD.  267 

bring  forth.  After  that  conversation  they  were  greater 
friends  than  ever.  A  little  event  occurred  that  brought 
about  confidence  between  them  nothing  else  could  have 
done. 

A  Mr.  Compton,  a  distant  relative  of  Lady  Clotilde, 
met  Silvia  and  fell  in  love  with  her.  He  was  a  gentle- 
men of  position,  of  character,  of  good  attainments,  and  of 
ample  fortune,  and  moreover,  he  was  so  deeply  in  love 
with  Silvia  that  he  asked  for  nothing  better  than  to  make 
her  his  wife.  Want  of  birth,  of  fortune,  was  nothing  to 
him;  he  would  have  overlooked  even  greater  deficiencies 
than  these  to  have  made  the  lady  he  admired  so  his  wife. 

Mrs.  Greville  only  stniled  when  he  confided  his  ad- 
miration to  her.  She  had  formed  a  shrewd  idea  that  it 
would  end  as  all  Silvia's  love  affairs  ended — in  a  blanV 
refusal.  But  Lady  Dynecourt  was  morfe  sanguine  wiitm 
Mr.  Compton  confided  in  her,  and  asked  her  to  help  him 
— she  was  delighted. 

"  It  is  the  very  thing  I  could  have  wished  for,"  she 
said.  "  I  love  Mrs.  Rymer,  and  shall  be  delighted  to 
have  her  for  a  relative.  I  wish  you  all  speed  in  your  love 
suit." 

"  But  you  will  help  me,"  he  said,  nervously.  "  Al- 
though I  love  her  so  dearly  she  has  never  given  me  the 
least  encouragement ;  it  is  like  wooing  in  the  dark  after 
all." 

When  Lady  Clotilde  met  Silvia  the  next  time,  she 
embraced  her  warmly. 

"  Are  you  going  to  make  Mr.  Compton  very  happy, 
Silvia?"  she  asked,  gently;  "you  will  make  me  very 
happy,  too." 

But  far  from  looking  happy,  Silvia  seemed  greatly 
distressed.  Lady  Clotilde  spoke  earnestly  to  her. 

"  Silvia,  you  will  not  refuse  him,  he  loves  yon  very 
much ;  he  would  make  you  very  happy;  besides— forgive 
me  if  I  seem  selfish— I  should  have  you  for  a  relative 
then." 

Silvia  laid  her  hand  on  the  arm  that  embraced  her. 

"  Do  you  remember,  Lady  Dynecourt,"  she  said,  "  the 
words  you  used  to  me  a  few  days  ago  —  "  it  is  given  to 
eomo  women  to  love  deeply,  aiid  to  love  but  once." 


268  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  1  remember,  dear  " 

"  Tliat  is  my  case.     I  have  no  love  to  give  any  one." 

Still  Lady  Clotilde  did  not  look  satisfied. 

"  There  must  be  something  allowed  for  every  posi- 
tion," she  said. 

"  Leave  love  out  of  the  question.  You  are  young  and 
beautiful ;  you  require  a  protector.  You  have  a  dearly- 
loved  child,  who  will  require  a  stronger  hand  than  yours 
to  guide  him  as  he  grows  older;  be  persuaded,  Silvia, 
and,  for  your  boy's  sake,  remarry.  I  love  you  so,  that  I 
should  not  urge  it  unless  I  felt  quite  sure  that  it  was  for 
your  good." 

"  I  would  do  almost  anything  that  you  urged  me  to  do, 
Lady  Clotilde,  but  I  cannot  marry.  Nay,  do  not  look  so 
gravely,  at  me.  If  you  will  permit  me,  I  will  tell  you 
the  story  of  my  life." 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

SILVIA'S    CONFIDANTE. 

WHILE  she  Jived,  Silvia  never  forgot  the  hour  that 
followed.  From  the  drawing-room  came  the  sound  of 
silvery  laughter,  the  murmur  of  musical  voices,  Mrs. 
Greville's  clearest  and  most  distinct  of  all.  The  fragrance 
of  costiy  exotics  seemed  to  tremble  on  the  air.  Just 
before  her,  on  a  small  stand,  stood  a  large  vase  filled  with 
white  lillies ;  and  ever  afterward  the  faintest  breatli  of 
their  perfume  seemed  to  bring  most  vividly  before  her 
the  noble,  earnest  face  of  Lady  Clotilde  Dynecourt. 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  story  of  my  life,"  she  had  said, 
and  Lady  Clotilde  looked  at  her  with  an  expression  of 
most  eager  interest. 

"Will  you,  Silvia?  You  may  trust  me  quite  safely. 
I  have  loved  few  as  I  love  you,  and  I  feel  that  your  life 
holds  a  romance — I  have  always  thought  so." 

But  Silvia  had  shrunk  back,  pale  and  shuddering. 
What  kind  of  story  was  hers  to  tell  to  a  noble  lady, 
whose  pure  ears  had  never  been  defiled  by  hearing  of 
the  wicked  ways  of  the  world?  And  yet  she,  in  all  the 


THROWN   ON   THE   WOKLD.  269 

pride,  her  dignity,  of  her  patrician  purity,  was  not  more 
innocent  and  guiltless  than  Silvia  herself. 

"  Why  should  I  fear  ?  "  she  said  to  herself.  "  I  loved, 
I  trusted,  and  I  was  deceived  ;  but  I  was  innocent." 

"  I  see  you  are  half  repenting,"  said  Lady  Clotilde. 
*'  I  will  not  urge  you,  but  I  arn  a  true  friend,  Silvia,  and 
I  should  like  to  know  some  sensible  reason  why  you  will 
not  marry  Mr.  Cornpton." 

"  You  shall  know,"  cried  Silvia,  with  sudden  passion, 
"  even  if  in  telling  you  I  must  lose  what  I  have  learned 
to  prize — your  good  opinion." 

"  You  will  never  lose  that"  said  Lady  Clotilde,  earnest- 
ly ;  "  It  is  yours  for  life." 

"  The  reason  why  I  cannot  marry  Mr.  Compton,  or 
any  one  else,"  said  Silvia,  "  is  that,  although  I  call  my- 
self a  widow,  I  believe  that  my  husband  is  living;  and, 
though  I  honestly  and  honorably  believe  myself  to  be  a 
true  and  lawful  wife,  the  m;m  I  loved  and  trusted  told 
me  he  had  betrayed  me — that  I  was  not  his  wife  at  all." 

She  spoke  hurriedly,  with  a  kind  of  suppressed  passion, 
as  though  she  half  feared  the  consequences  of  her  words, 
yet  was  resolved  to  utter  them. 

"  I  know  you  will  be  surprised,"  she  continued,  "sur- 
prised and  shocked,  but  it  is  better  that  you  should  know 
the  truth  at  once.  I  have  often  wished  to  tell  you.  I 
have  often  wondered  if  you  would  care  even  ever  so  little 
for  me  if  you  knew  my  story." 

For  all  answer,  Lady  Clotilde  bent  down  and  kissed 
her. 

"  I  could  sooner  mistake  a  snowdrop  for  a  poisonous 
weed  than  you  for  aught  than  the  purest  and  best ;  to  be 
deceived  is  a  misfortune,  not  a  crime." 

Tears  filled  Silvia's  eyes  as  she  listened  to  the  kindly 
words.  How  little  she  who  uttered  them  knew  that  they 
were  addressed  to  the  victim  of  the  husband  she  believed 
and  trusted  in.  She  kissed  Lady  Clotilde's  hand  in  a 
passion  of  rapturous  gratitude. 

"  Now  I  can  tell  you  all,"  she  cried  ;  "  and  no  word  of 
my  story  has  passed  my  lips  before." 

Half  kneeling,  half  sitting,  OH  tike  little  stool  at  Lady 
Clotilde's  feet,  her  hands  clasped,  her  beautiful  face  raised 


270  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

with  an  expression  of  wistful  supplication,  Silvia  told  the 
story  of  her  life.  It  was  like  an  idyl — a  romance.  The 
story  of  her  simple  girlish  life,  passed  so  happily  in  the 
pretty  village  home  ;  the  dawn  of  that  great  golden  light 
of  love,  when  her  hero  first  came ;  the  gradual  growth  ot 
tke  girlish  love  into  woman's  deepest  and  most  passionate 
idolatry ;  the  marriage  in  the  quiet  Seottish  manse ;  the 
one  year  of  paradise,  when  earth  indeed  seemed  heaven  ; 
the  new  love  and  happiness  that  baby  brought  with  him 
and  then  the  cruel  awakening — the  cruel  blow.  Lady 
Clotilde  listened  intently,  her  white,  jewelled  hand  rest- 
ing ever  and  anon  on  Silvia's  fair  head,  then  touching 
the  beautiful  face  with  caressing  fingers. 

"It  was  cruel,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  dreamy  voice.  "  It 
was  the  most  cruel  and  heartless  deed  ever  done." 

"  It  seemed  doubly  cruel  to  me,"  said  Silvia,  with  a 
deep  tearless  sob ;  "  because  it  was  so  totally  unexpected. 
You — if  you  will  pardon  my  presumption  for  comparing 
myself  with  you — you  know  how  firmly  grounded  is  your 
faith  in  your  husband  and  your  home — mine  was  just  as 
firm.  You  know  the  terrible  anguish  that  would  be 
yours  now  if  your  husband  wrote  to  you  and  said  your 
marriage  was  no  marriage.  You  can  imagine  what  that 
would  be  to  you.  Ah !  Lady  Clotilde,  it  was  the  same 
to  me." 

"  It  would  simply  have  killed  me,"  said  Lady  Dyne- 
court;  "  I  should  not  have  survived  it  one  day." 

"  So  I  thought,"  said  Silvia,  gently;  "but  Heaven  is 

food,  and  the  love  of  life  is  strong.     I  went  out  to  die — 
held  that  which  would  have  brought  me  death  in  my 
own  hands — yet  I  am  here,  living,  telling  yon  my  story 
as  though  it  had  happened  in  another  life.     Shame,  an- 
guish, and  despair  do  not  always  kill." 

"  You  had  no  warning  of  what  was  coming,  Silvia  ?  " 
asked  Lady  Clotilde. 

"  No;  none.  My  husband  —  I  shall  always  give  him 
that  title,  for  he  is  my  husband  before  Heaven — left  me 
Ifith  a  smile  and  a  kiss,  saying  he  should  return — I  re- 
member tho  words — at  five.  I  waited  for  him  unsuspi- 
ciously, as  you  await  the  return  of  your  husband  now,  and 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  271 

I  have  never  seen  him  since.  The  letter  was  brought  to 
me,  and  it  drove  me  mad." 

"  It  was  most  heartless,  most  cruel,"  said  Lady  Dyne- 
court.  "  "Why,  Silvia,  he  who  could  act  so  cruelly  is  not 
worth  sorrow  or  regret;  he  is  worthy  of  nothing  save 
contempt." 

"  I  cannot  help  loving  him,"  she  said,  gently.  "  I  try 
to  despise  him,  but  I  cannot,  because  —  I  think  it  is  be- 
cause I  loved  him  once  so  very  dearly.  I  try  to  say  to 
myself,  how  despicable,  how  cruel,  how  selfish  he  was; 
but  some  still  small  voice  in  my  heart  always  pleads  for 
him.  He  was  Cyril's  father,  and  I  cannot  forget  that." 

"And  you  have  never  heard  anything  from  him,  or 
about  him  ? " 

"  No;  I  have  done  my  best.  For  some  long  time  after 
that  cruel  letter  I  was  like  one  stunned  by  a  violent  blow 

—  I  could  not  even  think  clearly — -and  no  doubt  as  to 
the  truth  of  what  he  had  said  entered  my  mind.     Years 
afterwards,  and  then  quite  accidently,  a  chain  of  circum- 
stances, which  I  need  not  stop  to  explain,  led  to  my  find- 
ing out  that  he  had  deceived  me  ;  that  my  marriage,  ac- 
cording to  the  Scotch  law,  was  perfectly  legal  and  valid; 
and  that  if  I  chose  to  make  my  claim,  he  would  be  oblig- 
ed to  own  that  I  was  his  lawful  wife.     It  is  not  altogether 
for  my  own  sake  that  I  would  seek  justice,  but  for  Cyril's ; 
it  will  make  such  a  difference  to  my  boy." 

"  You  would  do  very  wrong  not  to  urge  it,  Silvia," 
said  Lady  Dynecourt,  so  unconscious — Heaven  help  her ! 

—  of  what  her  own    fate  would  be  if  that  claim  were 
allowed,  "  not  only  for  Cyril's  sake,  but  for  your  own ; 
it  is  monstrous  that  a  young  life  like  yours  should  be  so 
cruelly  blighted.     You  are  bound  in  honor  and  in  con- 
science to  do  the  best  you  can  for  yourself." 

"  I  loved  him  so  dearly,"  said  the  girl  unconsciously, 
"  that  it  seems  to  me  I  have  no  self  left  —  it  would  only 
be  for  Cyril's  sake." 

"  Then,"  said  Lady  Clotilde,  "  for  Cyril's  sake  why 
not  do  it  ?  " 

"  For  the  simple  reason  that  I  cannot  find  him,"  said 
Silvia.  "  Nor  do  I  know  what  steps  to  take  in  order  to 
find  him.  I  might  perhaps  obtain  some  clue  if  I  could 


272  THROWN   ON   THE    WOELD. 

make  my  story  known ;  but  that,  for  his  sake,  I  would 
never  do." 

"  You  are  weak,"  said  Lady  Clotilde,  impetuously. 
"  Such  conduct  as  his  to  you  should  not  go  unpunished. 
You  do  wrong  to  all  womankind  when  you  pass  it  over 
in  silence  and  oblivion.  Perhaps  if  men  were  more 
often  held  up  to  public  scorn  for  such  cowardly  actions, 
there  would  be  fewer  of  them." 

"  I  could  not  punish  him,"  replied  Silvia.  "  I  who 
loved  him  so  dearly  could  not  be  the  one  to  bring  retribu- 
tion on  him." 

"  What  rank —  what  position  did  he  hold  in  life,  Sil- 
via? "  asked  Lady  Dynecourt. 

"  I  cannot  tell.  "When  one  has  been  deceived,  it  is 
difficult  to  believe  anything.  Now  that  I  know  more  of 
the  world,  I  am  inclined  to  think  he  must  have  belonged 
to  a  higher  class  —  a  class  that  can  afford  to  gratify  every 
whim.  1  have  grown  wiser  since  the  days  when  I 
thought  my  village  home  the  fairest  under  the  sun ; 
knowledge  does  not  always  bring  happiness." 

A  strong  impulse  urged  Lady  Dynecourt  to  ask  if  she 
thought  Rymer  an  assumed  name,  but  she  repressed  it, 
not  liking  to  ask  any  information  that  Silvia  did  not  vol- 
untarily give  to  her. 

"  You  have  had  excellent  opportunities  for  seeing  most 
of  the  habitues  of  the  great  world,"  she  said,  thought- 
fully; "  among  them,  have  you  seen  no  one  who  reminds 
yon  of  him  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Silvia ;  "  he  was  as  superior  to  every 
one  I  have  seen  as  the  sun  is  to  the  stars." 

Lady  Dynecourt  smiled  faintly. 

"  You  loved  him  well,  and  the  glamour  of  love  is  upon 
you  still,"  she  said. 

But  Silvia,  looking  earnestly  at  her,  said  : 

"  Lady  Dynecourt,  you  have  not  the  legal  knowledge 
of  a  clever  lawyer,  but  you  have  the  instinct  of  H  noble 
and  true  lady;  will  you  answer  me  one  question  '.  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  quiet  reply ;  "  that  I  will,  if  it  be  in 
my  power." 


THKOWN    ON    THE    WORLD,  273 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

A   WIFE'S   DECISION. 

SILVIA  paused  for  one  half  minute.  She  had  felt  some 
suspense  before  the  counsel's  reply  had  reached  her,  but 
she  felt  greater  suspense  now.  A  lawyer  she  felt  might 
be  mistaken,  but  a  noble  and  honorable  woman  never 
could  be.  One  like  Lady  Dynecourt,  whose  heart,  mind, 
and  soul  were  naturally  noble,  delicate,  and  refined, 
would  have  a  quicker,  keener,  surer  insight  into  things 
than  mere  legal  men  could  ever  give.  She  felt,  there- 
fore, as  if  her  fate,  her  future,  her  fortune,  her  life,  were 
to  be  directed,  when  she  looked  up  into  Lady  Clotilde's 
face,  and  said  : 

"  Will  you  tell  me  your  own,  honest,  unbiased  opinion, 
whether  you  think  my  marriage  legal  or  not  ?  " 

"If  you  will  tell  me  all  the  details,  you  shall  have  my 
earnest  and  unbiased  opinion.  I  know  little  or  nothing 
of  what  constitutes  the  marriage  of  any  country,  but  I, 
think,  in  common  with  every  one  else,  I  know  what  con- 
stitutes the  marriage  before  God  and  man. 

Silvia  then  related  every  detail — the  honest,  good  faith 
in  which  she  herself  was  married,  the  ceremony  that  took 
place,  even  the  names  of  the  witnesses.  She  omitted  not 
one  detail,  and  Lady  Clotilde,  little,  ah  1  little  dreaming 
upon  whom  she  sat  in  judgment,  said  : 

"  Your  marriage  I  should  consider  as  legal  and  binding 
as  though  it  had  been  celebrated  in  an  English  cathedral 
before  thousands  of  people." 

"  If  you  say  so,  no  doubt  shall  ever  cross  my  mind 
again,"  cried  Silvia. 

"  I  do  say  so.  I  believe  you  are  a  wife,  evem  as  I  be- 
lieve I  am  one  myself;  and,  Silvia,  you  should  not  be 
content  to  remain  quiet;  for  the  sake  of  religion  and 
morality  you  should  take  some  steps.  Only  think  how 
horrible  it  would  be  if  the  man  who  is  absolutely  your 
husband  should  marry  again !  " 


274  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

Silvia's  face  grew  pale. 

"  It  may  even  be  so,"  continued  Lady  Dynecourt ; 
"  then  thiuk  what  shame  and  sorrow  would  fall  on  inno- 
cent heads.  You  must  avert  what  evil  you  can,  Silvia. 
Have  you  any  idea  as  to  whether  he  would  think  of 
marrying  again?" 

A  vague,  distressed  expression  came  over  the  beautiful 
face. 

'•  Your  question  gives  me  many  anxious  thoughts,"  she 
replied.  "  When  that  cruel  letter  of  his  came  it  drove 
me  mad.  And  afterward,  when  I  tried  to  recall  every 
word,  I  found  that  I  could  not  do  so — it  seems  to  me  like 
a  dream.  There  are  times  when  I  fancy  that  he  said  he 
was  going  to  England  to  marry  some  lady  in  his  own 
rank  of  life;  then  again  I  think  it  must  be  a  fevered 
fancy.  If  it  were  really  so,  Lady  Clotlide,  and  I  made 
his  fault  known,  I  should  place  him  in  the  hard,  cruel 
clutches  of  the  law." 

"  Then  you  would  do  right ;  the  law  was  made  for  such 
offenders.  You  must  think  of  others,  Silvia.  If  he  is 
married,  then  there  is  some  one  else  most  cruelly  de- 
ceived ;  some  one  else  who  thinks  herself  a  wife,  and  who 
is  after  all  no  wife.  The  consequences  of  one  sin  are 
terrible  and  never  ending." 

"Yet,  I  could  not  punish  him,"  said  Silvia,  musingly. 
"  I  think,  I  do  not  say  I  am  sure,  but  I  think  that  if  I 
were  to  meet  him  again,  even  if  he  had  wife  and  children 
by  his  side,  I  could  only  forgive  him.  I  have  borne  the 
bitterness  of  death,  I  think.  Oh,  Lady  Dynecourt — do 
not  say  I  am  weak  and  foolish — I  think  I  should  bury 
my  wrongs  in  my  own  heart,  and  let  him  pass  on.  If  I 
know  myself,  I  could  never  bring  on  another  the  same 
unhappiness  I  have  felt  myself." 

"  We  shall  not  agree,  Silvia,"  said  Lady  Dynecourt. 
"  I  like  right  at  any  cost.  I  would  do  right,  no  matter 
what  it  cost  mo." 

"  Ah,  but,  Lady  Clotilde,  if  he  should  have  now  the 
love  of  another  woman,  if  he  should  have  made  another 
his  wife.  Think  what  she  must  suffer  if  he  were  punish- 
ed and  his  crime  brought  to  light." 

"  Certainly,  she  must  suffer.      You  suffered,  did  you 


THROWN   ON    THE    WOKLD.  275 

not?  But,  supposing  her  to  be  a  good  and  true  woman, 
do  you  think  she  would  thank  you  for  the  weakness  that 
allows  her  to  keep  a  position  at  once  so  false  and  so 
degrading?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  the  gentle  voice.  "  It  would  be 
hard  to  bear." 

Lady  Clotilde  raised  her  head  with  a  lofty  pride  that 
was  natural  to  her. 

"  1  know,  speaking  for  myself,"  she  said,  "  that  I 
would  rather  bear  any  suffering  than  be  deceived.  That  I 
could  not  bear.  The  position  of  a  person  deceived  on 
any  vital  point  always  seems  to  me  more  or  less  con- 
temptible. Give  me  truth,  no  matter  what  goes  with  it." 

"  But  such  suffering  as  that,  Lady  Clotilde." 

"  Better  ten  thousand  times  to  be  endured  than  decep- 
tion should  be  continued.  I  put  myself  in  the  place  of 
such  a  woman.  Do  you  know  what  I  should  do,  Silvia?  " 

"  Something  noble  and  grand,  I  am  sure,"  said  Silvia, 
with  admiring  eyes. 

"  I  should  recognize  my  position  at  once.  I  should  go 
to  the  man  I  had  believed  to  be  my  husband.  I  should 
say  to  him :  '  Before  God  and  man,  your  faith  and  truth 
belong  to  the  woman  you  married  in  Scotland,  and  even 
though  rny  heart  break,  I  bid  you  farewell  forever.' ': 

"  W  ould  you  really  do  that  ?  "  asked  Silvia. 

"  Undoubtedly.  I  would  not  remain  under  his  roof  or 
bear  his  name  one  hour  after  I  knew  such  a  truth." 

Silvia  sighed  deeply, 

"  I  am  not  so  brave  or  so  strong  as  you,"  she  said. 
"  You  are  the  noblest  lady  I  have  ever  met.  And,  oh ! 
Lady  Dynecourt,  is  it  possible  that  you  will  care  for  mo 
as  much,  now  you  know  my  story,  as  you  did  before?  " 

Lady  Clotilde  smiled. 

"  I  shall  care  for  you  even  more,  my  dearest  Silvia ; 
but  I  shall  never  cease  urging  on  you  the  need  of  seek- 
ing justice.  Now  I  hear  Mrs.  Grevilie's  visitors  going. 
How  long  I  have  been  here  !  Silvia,  my  husband  ^is  com- 
ing home,  as  I  told  you,  very  soon,  and  I  am  having  the 
picture-gallery  and  the  drawing-rooms  redecorated.  Will 
jou  come-and  give  me  the  benefit  of  your  good  advice  ? 


276  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

Mrs.  Greville  tells  *ie  yon  were  quite  famous  in  Rome 
for  your  great  artistic  taste." 

Silvia  glanced  with  a  sky -bright  smile  at  the  noble 
face. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  ever  was  or  ever  shall  he  famous," 
she  said.  "  I  am  only  a  wayside  flower ;  but  I  cannot  tell 
you  how  much  pleasure  it  will  give  me  to  help  you." 

"Before  Lord  Dynecourt  left  England,"  continued 
Lady  Clotilde,  "he  sat  to  Winterbetter  for  l.is  portrait; 
it  has  not  been  sent  home  yet,  but  I  hope  it  will  come 
before  my  lord  himself.  I  have  had  all  the  pictures  re- 
arranged, so  as  to  give  it  the  best  place  in  the  gallery. 
Why  are  you  smiling,  Silvia?" 

"  Because  it  makes  my  very  heart  glad  to  hear  yon," 
she  replied  ;  "it  is  like  listening  to  the  sweetest  music. 
Do  you  know,  Lady  Clotilde,  that  you  are  the  first  happy 
wife  I  have  known  ;  you  are  the  first  who  has  spoken  hap- 
pily of  love  —  husband  and  home  —  that  is  why  I  would 
sooner  hear  you  than  listen  to  the  sweetest  music  in  the 
world." 

Lady  Clotilde  connected  a  sigh  with  a  smile. 

"  You  have  seen  the  darkest  side  of  life.  Certainly 
there  may  be  a  happier  experience  in  store  for  you ;  it  is 
not  impossible  that  }TOU  may  be  on  the  list  of  happy  wives 
yourself.  Never  despair.  Then  you  will  come  to  me  to- 
morrow? I  shall  ask  Mrs.  Greville  if  she  con  spare  you 
for  some  few  days." 

"That  will  be  quite  a  pleasure  to  look  forward  to," 
said  Silvia,  more  brightly  than  Lady  Clotilde  had  ever 
heard  her  speak  yet ;  and  so  with  kindly  words  they 
parted. 


THBOWN   ON   THE    WOELD.  277 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 
IN  HER  HUSBAND'S  HOME. 

MRS.  GREVILLE  smiled  when  Lady  Dynecourt  made 
her  request. 

"  Spare  Mrs.  Eymer  for  a  whole  \veek  ? "  she  said  ; 
"  we  have  not  been  parted  for  a  week  since  she  came  to 
live  with  me.  I  cannot  refuse  you,  but  I  shall  be  sorely 
puzzled." 

While  to  Silvia  herself,  'the  fact  of  her  spending  an 
entire  week  with  one  whom  she  loved  so  entirely,  and 
esteemed  perhaps  more  highly  than  any  other,  was  to 
her  like  a  glimpse  of  Paradise.  She  prepared  for  her 
visit  with  a  face  of  such  rapturous  happiness  that  Mrs. 
Greville  pretended  to  feel  jealous  over  her  decided  pre- 
ference. 

"  You  really  ought  to  pretend  to  be  sorry  to  leave  me, 
Silvia,"  she  said ;  "  after  living  so  long  together  you  are 
bound  to  love  me." 

Silvia  laughed,  and  it  was  almost  the  fir?t  time  during 
those  years  that  Mrs.  Greville  had  heard  the  sound  of 
that  full,  rich,  silvery  laugh.  She  looked  up  in  amaze. 

"  Your  laughter  is  like  a  chime  of  silvery  bells,  Sil- 
via," she  said ;  "  how  is  it  that  I  have  never  heard  it 
before  ? " 

"  You  have  been  very  good  to  me,"  said  Silvia,  grate- 
fully, "and  I  am  sorry  to  leave  you  —  even  were  it  only 
for  one  day.  But  the  idea  of  you  with  the  world  at  your 
feet  being  jealous  of  me  amuses  me." 

"  It  is  fortunate  for  me  that  Lady  Dynecourt  lias  a 
husband  ;  if  she  had  not  she  would  never  let  you  return  ; 
but,  Silvia,"  continued  Mrs.  Greville,  with  more  emotion 
than  she  was  accustomed  to  display,  "  you  will  always 
remember  that  whatever  good  or  ill  betides  you,  your 
home  is  here  with  me." 

And  then,  with  these  words  ringing  in  her  ears,  Silvia 
set  out  for  the  home  that  should  by  right  have  been  her 


2 78  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

OWn  —  the  home  where  the  grand  tragedy  of  her  life  was 
to  be  enacted. 

It  was  a  strange,  grim,  bitter  fate  that  led  her  there  — 
the  house  where  the  man  she  loved  had  spent  the  half  of 
his  life  —  where  every  picture,  every  work  of  art  was  in 
some  way  connected  with  him  —  where  his  feet  for  many 
years  had  trodden  —  the  home  that  was  associated  with 
all  his  past,  and  where  his  future  was  to  be  even  more 
tragical. 

No  suspicion  of  the  truth  ever  dawned  upon  her  as  she 
entered  Dyne  wold  House  ;  no  faint  shadow  of  what  was 
looming  over  her;  no  idea,  even  ever  so  remote,  that  she 
was  for  the  first  time  entering  the  house  that,  if  justice 
had  been  done  to  her,  should  have  been  entirely  her  own. 
Lady  Dynecourt  met  her  in  that  magnificent  entrance 
hall,  where  royal  princes  had  looked  around  in  admiration 
— where  luxury  and  art  seemed  to  reign  supreme.  She 
thought  to  herself  that  if  magnificence  could  bring  happi- 
ness it  must  surely  be  found  there.  Lady  Dynecouit 
smiled  half  sadly  as  she  rioted  that  look. 

"Is  this  your  first  visit  to  Dynewold  House?  "  slo 
asked  of  Silvia.  "  How  strange  that  I  should  havt- 
known  and  loved  you,  yet  that  you  should  not  ha\e 
visited  me  before." 

She  called  no  servant,  but  took  Silvia  up  the  broad, 
beautiful  staircase  to  her  room.  She  said,  in  her  gentle 
voice : 

"  See,  I  have  chosen  a  pretty  room  for  you,  quite  close 
to  my  own.  Oh!  Silvia,  I  wish — oh!  I  wish  that  you 
were  never  going  to  leave  me  again." 

44  Surely  you  do  not  require  a  companion,"  said  Silvia, 
laughingly.  "  I  should  find  amusement  enough  in  simply 
looking  around  me." 

Then  the  sad,  half-wistful  expression  she  had  noticed 
BO  often  came  again  over  Lady  Clotilde's  face. 

"  My  husband  is  very  kind,"  she  said,  "  my  home  very 
beautiful,  but,  Silvia —  Silvia,  do  you  not  understand  the 
silence  here  is  never  broken  by  the  sound  of  a  child's 
voice,  or  the  least  sunny  gleam  of  laughter;  there  is  no 
pretty  face  to  make  sunshine.  I  should  be  happy  if 
Heaven  in  its  goodness  had  given  to  me  one  little  child 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  279 

—  only  one,  for  my  husband  to  have  loved,  and  to  have 
looked  upon  as  his  heir.  Silvia,  no  silence  seems  to  i;;o 
half  so  sad,  so  cold,  so  lonely  as  the  silence  of  a  great 
house  where  there  is  no  child." 

Then,  after  a  few  minutes,  she  shook  off  the  profound 
silence  that  had  fallen  over  her. 

"  Come  with  me  to  the  picture-gallery."  she  said,  "  the 
men  are  busy  at  work." 

Dynewold  House  was  not  gaudy  ;  the  decorations  were 
magnificent,  but  they  were  all  in  the  most  subdued  and 
perfect  taste  —  the  most  perfect  harmony.  There  was 
nothing  that  gave  any  one  the  idea  of  novelty.  It  was 
the  house  of  generations ;  the  art  treasures  accumulated 
there  bore  the  mark  of  many  centuries ;  it  was  that  very 
idea  of  anciertt  grandeur  that  caused  it  to  look  so  differ- 
ent to  everything  Silvia  had  ever  seen  before.  One  part 
of  the  picture-gallery  was  already  completed.  Lady  Dyne- 
court's  taste  was  too  perfect  to  allow  her  to  bring  into 
that  home  of  the  arts  anything  that  was  not  in  keeping 
with  its  character.  The  pictures  were  mellowed  with 
time,  and  the  statues  were  beautiful  copies  of  the  great 
masterpieces  of  the  world  ;  the  recesses  in  the  walls  were 
filled  with  stands  of  costly  exotics ;  a  rich  crimson  carpet 
covered  the  c  a  ken  boards;  the  light  that  came  through 
the  windows  was  modulated  by  the  artistically  construct- 
ed blinds.  Silvia  uttered  a  cry  of  admiration  as  she  enter- 
ed the  place,  and  Lady  Dynecourt's  fair  face  lighted  up 
with  an  expression  of  eager  delight. 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  like  it  ?  "  she  cried,  with  the 
impetuosity  of  a  child. 

For  one  moment  Silvia  had  forgotten  the  absent  hus- 
band. 

«  He !  —  who  ?  —  Lord  Dynecourt  ?  I  should  think  he 
will  be  delighted,"  she  hastened  to  reply. 

Then  Lady  Clotilde  took  her  hand  and  led  her  to  a 
beautiful  little  alcove,  where  there  was  space  sufficient 
for  a  large  picture. 

"  This  is  the  spot  where  my  husband's  portrait  is  to 
hang,"  she  said;  and,  Silvia,  do  you  know  that  last  night, 
as  I  walked  here  alone  in  the  twilight,  a  strange  kind  of 
half-vision  came  to  me.  Shall  I  tell  you  what  it  was  ?  " 


$80  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

The  profound  melancholy  tone  struck  dismay  into  Sil- 
via's heart ;  what  right  had  this  favorite  of  fortune  —  this 
beloved  child,  this  loved  wife,  this  proud,  beautiful,  high- 
bred woman  — what  right  had  she  with  melancholy? 

"Yes,  tell  me,"  she  replied;  "happy  people  never 
have  visions." 

"  Do  they  not?  Well,  my  vision  was  this:  I  eaw  my 
husband's  portrait  hanging  there — the  handsome,  smiling 
face  that  I  loved  so  dearly — and  I  saw  the  pictured  face 
of  another  woman  hanging  by  his  side — not  my  face; 
and  then  it  seemed  to  me  that,  though  I  had  been  long 
dead,  I  hovered  there,  a  gray,  silent  shadow — unseen  by 
any  one — still  loving  the  handsome  face  that  hung  ou  the 
wall.  It  was  a  strange  fancy,  Silvia." 

"  Nothing  but  a  fancy,  though,  Lady  Clotilde,  that 
came  from  the  twilight  and  the  shadows ;  it  was  nothing 
more." 

"  I  know  you  are  right ;  yet  it  took  a  strange  hold  of 
me,  and  it  has  left  an  impression  on  my  mind  that  I  shall 
die  soon." 

"  It  is  nothing  but  nervousness,"  said  Silvia,  earnestly ; 
"  and  I  have  always  heard  the  most  painful  shape  nerv- 
ous disease  ever  takes  is  that  of  a  constant  troubling, 
intangible,  groundless  fear  of  death." 

Lady  Clotilde's  face  brightened. 

"Is  it  a  common  thing?"  she  said.  "Ah,  then  I  am 
glad  I  told  you.  I  was  afraid,  thinking  you  would  laugh 
at  me.  I  began  to  think  my  picture-gallery  haunted." 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  haunted  by  bright,  happy,  loving 
thoughts,  and  beautiful  associations,"  said  Silvia,  with  a 
low,  sweet  laugh,  and  then  together  they  looked  at  the 
pictures. 

There  were  gems  by  the  ancient  masters,  pictures  by 
mordern  artists;  but  what  interested  Silvia  were  the 
grand  old  family  portraits,  the  warriors,  the  statesmen, 
the  men  who  had  done  good  service  to  king  and  country. 

"  There  is  a  strange  resemblance  in  all  these  faces," 
she  said,  thoughtfully;  "it  is  easy  to  see  they  are  all 
men  of  the  same  race." 

"  Yes;  and  the  features,  the  brow,  the  eyes,  the  lif* 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  281 

seem  to  descend  from  father  to  son.  The  Dynecourts 
have  always  been  considered  a  very  handsome  race." 

"There  is  something  tome  strangely  familiar  in  the 
faces,  too,"  continued  Silvia.  "  1  could  fancy  that  I  had 
known  them  all." 

And  so,  unconsciously,  she — the  mother  of  the  true  heir 
of  that  noble  race  — •  walked  among  the  silent  and  illus- 
trious dead.  Once  she  was  almost  startled.  A  picture 
of  three  children,  a  family  group,  painted  by  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  stood  against  the  wall.  Lady  Clotilde  was 
speaking  to  one  of  the  workmen,  and  Silvia  turned  it 
round  to  the  light,  wondering  what  it  was.  A  cry  of 
surprise  rose  to  her  lips,  but  she  stifled  it. 

The  boj',  the  centre  figure  of  the  group,  was  the  image, 
the  very  picture  of  little  Cyril. 

The  impulse  was  strong  upon  her  to  call  Lady  Clo- 
tilde's  attention  to  it,  but,  remembering  how  sensitive 
she  was  she  forbore.  She  replaced  the  painting,  but  she 
could  not  drive  the  wonder  and  surprise  from  her  heart. 

Was  it  merely  accidental,  this  likeness  between  her  boy 
and  the  heir  of  Dynecourt,  who  had  lived  so  long  ago  t 
Was  it  accidental?  Of  course  it  could  be  nothing  else. 
But  why  was  it — how  could  it  be? 

Not  even  the  faintest  suspicion  of  the  truth  dawned 
across  her;  the  faintest  foreshadowing  of  the  truth  never 
occurred  to  her.  Her  heart  was  full  of  silent  wonder  and 
more  than  once  that  same  evening  she  stole  away  in  the 
dim  twilight  to  look  again  upon  the  face  that  was  so  like 
her  beloved  and  only  child. 


THBOWN    ON   THE    .VOBLD. 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

A    FEARFUL    RETRIBUTION. 

AN  interruption  to  the  train  of  thought  came  on  thf 
day  following.  Among  Clotilders  friends  she  numberec 
a  Mrs.  Lowe,  a  pretty,  fashionable,  clever  woman,  whost 
society  was  always  eagerly  sought  after.  Lady  Clotildt 
liked  her,  and  though  she  had  given  orders  that  she  was 
to  be  denied  to  visitors  during  the  next  few  days,  she  was 
always  "  at  home  "  to  Mrs.  Lowe. 

It  was  a  bright,  beautiful  morning ;  Lady  Clotilde  was 
busily  engaged  in  correcting  the  proofs  of  a  new  catalogue 
of  pictures;  Silvia  was  writing  the  invitations  for  a  grand 
dinner  party,  to  be  given  on  the  day  after  Lord  Dyne- 
court's  return.  The  summer  sunshine  filled  the  room,  the 
air  was  odorous  with  the  sweet  breath  of  flowers,  when 
Mrs.  Lo»ve  was  announced.  Lady  Clotilde  looked  up  with 
a  smile. 

"  Always  welcome,  Mrs.  Lowe,"  she  said,  and  the  visit- 
or's pretty  face  brightened  and  beamed  with  delight  at 
the  words.  After  some  few  preliminary  remarks,  she 
cried : 

"  Lady  Clotilde,  do  you  remember  a  very  beautiful 
woman  we  met  last  year  occasionally  in  society  —  a 
Madame  Faiteuil?  You  never  liked  her  and  declined  an 
introduction." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Lady  Clotilde ;  "  but  I  have  seen 
nothing  of  her  this  year." 

"  No  ;  she  has  been  living  in  seclusion.  You  will  be 
interested  to  know  she  is  married  to-day." 

"  Married !  "  cried  Lady  Clotilde.  "  No  one  can  say 
now  that  courage  is  extinct  among  our  gentlemen.  Who 
has  been  found  brave  enough  to  undertake  the  destiny  of 
Madame  la  Buronne  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  strangest  part  of  the  story.  Do  you 
remember  meeting  at  Lady  Billie's  a  pretty,  sad,  half- 
frightened-looking  woman— a  Mrs.  Thornton?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I  read  of  her  death  soon  afterward." 


THROWN    ON    THE    WOKLD.  283 

"  Mr.  Thornton,  the  widower,  is  the  happy  man.  He 
marries  Madame  la  Baronne  at  Hanover  Square  this 
morning.  The  marriage  is  being  celebrated  even  now, 
while  I  arn  speaking." 

Silvia's  face  flushed  with  hot  indignation.  Poor  heart- 
broken wife!  poor,  unhappy,  wretched  lady!  so  slowly, 
so  cruelly  murdered.  It  seemed  to  her  but  yesterday 
that  she  had  stood  trembling  and  half-frightened  by  that 
solitary  death-bed;  the  pale,  dying  face  seemed  to  rise 
before  her ;  the  faint  voice,  with  its  terrible  threat,  sound- 
ed again  in  her  ears : 

"  I  shall  not  rest  in  my  grave — I  cannot  rest — I  must 
see  him  again.  I  must  look  once  more  upon  his  face!  " 

Would  that  threat  be  realized  ?  Would  that  restless, 
loving,  unhappy  spirit  revisit  this  world  for  the  purpose 
of  looking  once  more  upon  the  face  of  the  man  she  had 
loved  so  devotedly — the  man  who  had  destroyed  her  ?  A 
cold  shudder  of  dread  seized  her,  even  her  lips  grew 
white. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Silvia  ?  "  asked  Lady  Clotilde, 
in  alarm. 

"  I  knew  Mrs.  Thornton,"  she  replied,  "  and  I  am 
shocked;  I  used  to  live  with  her." 

Both  ladies  looked  at  her  in  wonder. 

"  I  had  forgotten  that,  if  I  ever  heard  it,"  said  Lady 
Clotilde. 

Mrs.  Lowe  was  too  well-bred  to  make  any  inquiries. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said ;  "  I  was  not  aware  of 
it.  I  knew  not  that  you  would  be  pained  at  what  1  said." 

"  It  does  not  surprise  me,"  replied  Silvia.  "  I  have 
always  expected  to  hear  of  that  marriage,  sooner  or  later. 
Does  Mr.  Thornton  still  reside  at  Clove  House?  " 

"  Yes;  and  a  series  of  most  brilliant  entertainments  are 
to  follow  the  marriage.  '  The  happy  couple,7  as  the 
papers  say,  are  going  to  the  Isle  of  Wight  for  a  week 
on!v  ;  then  they  take  a  very  determined  plunge  into  gay 
life",  and  we  may  expect  Mrs.  Thornton  to  be  one  of  our 
leading  belles." 

"  2  shall  never  either  receive  or  visit  her,"  said  Lady 
Clotilde,  gently.  "  I  did  not  like  her  at  first,  and  am  not 
likely  to  change  my  opinion." 


284-  THROWN    ON    THE    WOBLD. 

It  was  a  shock  to  Silvia,  although  she  had  always 
known  that  sooner  or  later  the  marriage  would  take  place. 
Indeed,  it  had  been  a  matter  of  surprise  to  her  that  she 
had  not  heard  of  it  before.  Mrs.  Lowe  went  away,  leav- 
ing Silvia  overshadowed  by  the  memory  of  the  tragedy 
that  she  had  been  learning  to  forget. 

A  few  days  afterward  and  all  London  was  shocked  by 
the  rumor  of  a  terrible  occurrence  at  Cleve  House.  Ai 
the  clubs  and  the  drawing-rooms  people  talked  of  nothing 
else.  Hundreds  congregated  to  look  at  the  exterior  of 
the  house  where  so  unusual  a  scene  had  taken  place ;  the 
illustrated  papers  had  pictures  of  Cleve  House  on  the 
front  page.  Men  met  each  other,  and  said : 

"  This  is  a  queer  story  about  Thornton." 

Ladies  grew  pale  at  the  mention  of  the  name. 

Better  to  tell  in  our  own  words  what  happened. 
Newspaper  reports  varied,  although  the  substance  was  the 
same.  We  have  no  precise  explanation  to  give.  Whether 
in  punishment  of  what  was  in  reality  a  cold,  cruel,  heart- 
less murder,  the  spirit  of  the  injured  woman  was  allowed 
to  revisit  the  world,  or  whether  remorse  played  upon  a 
guilty  mind  and  tilled  it  with  shadows,  who  shall  say? 
JBut  this  was  the  fate  of  Mr.  Thornton. 

The  gorgeous  wedding-breakfast  was  given  at  Cleve 
House.  Mme.  la  Baronne  had  furnished  apartments, 
where  it  was  quite  impossible  that  any  ceremony  of  the 
kind  could  take  place.  Therefore,  by  Mr.  Thornton's 
wish  and  desire,  the  breakfast  was  given  at  his  mansion. 

Such  a  breakfast!  Gunter  had  provided  it.  Weip- 
part's  band  was  engaged.  Half  the  elite  of  London 
gathered  in  those  gorgeous  apartments;  the  luxury  and 
magnificence  displayed  were  regal.  Mrs.  Thornton,  beau- 
tiful as  a  vision,  received  the  congratulations  of  the 
guests.  Her  toilet  was  something  that  must  be  seen  in 
order  to  b.>  understood  ;  the  "sheen  of  satin,  the  glimmer 
of  pearls,"  all  that  luxury  and  art  could  suggpst,  had 
been  brought  to  aid  her  loveliness;  and  Mr.  Thornton 
looked  more  than  proud  of  his  peerless  bride. 

The  carriage  for  the  happy  pair  was  ordered  at  three 
o'clock.  Mrs.  Thornton  withdrew  to  change  her  dress; 
Mr.  Thornton  went  into  his  own  room  for  some  few 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  285 

minutes'  preparation  before  his  journey.  His  valet  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  door. 

"  I  shall  not  want  you,  Adolphe,"  he  said.  "  See  that 
my  dressing-case  is  put  into  the  carriage." 

Humming  to  himself  a  popular  air  from  a  well-known 
opera,  Mr.  Thornton  entered  his  room  and  closed  the 
door.  The  bride  descended,  the  carriage  drove  up  to  the 
door ;  in  the  streets  outside  a  crowd  of  people  gathered 
to  witness  the  departure.  Brilliantly -dressed  wedding 
guests  and  obsequious  servants  surrounded  the  bride,  yet 
no  bridegroom  appeared. 

"  Mr.  Thornton  is  in  his  room,"  said  the  valet,  in 
answer  to  some  question. 

The  pause  became  embarassing. 

"  Tell  your  master  I'm  ready,"  said  Mrs.  Thornton, 
imperiously. 

Then  Adolphe  went  to  his  master's  room,  and  a  loud 
cry  of  dismay  rang  through  the  house.  One  looked  at 
another  without  speaking.  "What  could  be  the  matter; 
what  had  gone  wrong?  "What  was  that  terrible  cry 
ringing  through  the  house,  blanching  blooming  faces,  and 
causing  strong  men  to  look  at  each  other  in  wondering 
fear? 

"  Something  wrong  in  Mr.  Thornton's  room!  " 

Who  said  the  words  first,  and  what  did  they  mean? 
One  or  two  of  his  most  intimate  friends  went  upstairs, 
followed  the  servants  into  the  room,  and  there  beheld  a 
sight  that  might  have  struck  terror  even  into  stouter 
hearts  than  theirs. 

On  a  chair,  huddled  into  a  frightened,  confused  mass 
sat  the  bridegroom,  a  crouching,  gibbering  idiot,  pointing 
with  his  finger  to  a  chair  that  his  first  wife  had  been 
accustomed  to  use. 

"Take  that  woman  away,"  he  cried,  with  chattering 
teeth  ;  "  take  her  away.  There  are  worms  on  her  shroud ; 
she  is  pointing  at  me.  There  is  a  stain  of  blood  over  her 
heart ;  take  her  away." 

"  There  is  no  woman,"  said  one,  trying  to  pacify  him. 

"  She  is  there— my  wife.  They  said  I  broke  her  heart. 
She  said  unless  I  bade  her  good-by  she  should  come  back 
to  look  once  again  at  me.  I  have  been  expecting  her 


286  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 

every  honr  since  she  died  ;  she  has  come  at  last.  On  my 
wedding-day — my  wedding-day — and  there  she  sits,  with 
her  dead  eyes  on  my  face.  Take  her  away  ;  great  Heaven  ! 
take  her  away." 

It  was  useless  trying  to  soothe  him ;  he  was  raving 
mad.  Doctors  came  and  prescribed  for  him.  Wonder, 
dismay,  fear,  horror,  took  the  place  of  feasting  and  mirth. 
Such  a  tragedy  had  never  happened  within  the  memory 
of  man.  From  one  terrible  convulsion  he  f<  11  into  an- 
other, until  the  frenzy  of  madness  c<*uld  go  no  further, 
and  then,  under  careful  restraint,  he  was  removed. 

It  was  some  time  before  they  dare  break  the  intelli- 
gence to  the  proud,  beautiful  woman  he  had  married. 
She  heard  it  with  a  stern,  proud  face,  to  all  appearance 
unmoved ;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  in  the  right- 
eous retribution  that  had  overtaken  him  she  saw  how 
justly  he  was  punished  for  his  sin. 

Instead  of  a  gay  and  gallant  bridegroom  there  was  a 
helpless  idiot,  frightened  at  imaginary  voices,  at  shadowy 
faces —  frightened  at  the  specters  his  own  guilty  con- 
science called  forth  —  idiocy  alternating  with  the  most 
terrible  frenzy  of  madness. 

His  wife  took  possession  of  his  fortune  and  estate,  and 
he  was  seen  by  the  great  world  no  more;  the  heavy  iron 
gates  of  the  asylum  closed  behind  him,  and  he  passed 
them  never  again. 


CHAPTER  LXV. 
LORD  DYNECOURT'S  RETURN. 

MY  lady,  his  lordship  has  arrived,  and  is  in  the  library. 
They  were  very  common  words,  uttered  by  an  important- 
looking  footman,  who  evidently  understood  that  the 
coming  home  of  his  lord  would  be  a  great  event  for  his 
lady. 

Lady  Clotilde  was  seated  with  Silvia  in  a  pretty  little 
morn  ing- room;  they  were  both  engaged  with  a  parcel  of 
new  books  when  the  man  entered  with  his  message. 
Lord  Dynecourt  had  not  been  expected  until  evening. 
If  Silvia  had  never  known  or  even  suspected  how  dearly 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  287 

his  wife  loved  him,  she  knew  it  then  by  the  thrill  of 
delight  that  seemed  for  one  moment  .to  unnerve  her, 
by  the  warm  flush  that  rose  to  the  beantiful  noble  face, 
by  the  sudden  liu'ht  that  came  into  her  eyes,  by  the 
trembling  of  the  white  hands.  She  laid  the  books  down, 
and,  with  a  low  cry,  rose  from  her  seat. 

"  He  is  come!  "  she  said,  and  Silvia  never  forgot  the 
tone  of  her  voice — it  was  as  though  all  Paradise  had 
suddenly  opened  before  her. 

The  next  moment  she  had  quitted  the  room,  and  Silvia 
was  alone. 

Silvia's  thoughts  were  not  all  sad  ones.  Her  experience 
of  the  world  had  been  so  sad,  her  experience  of  married 
life  so  unhappy,  that  it  was  something  new  to  see  a  wife 
who  was  happy  in  her  husband's  love. 

"  She  must  be  happy,"  thought  Silvia,  "  although  she 
has  no  children,  and  her  face  is  at  times  so  sad  ;  she  must 
be  happy,  she  loves  him  so  dearly." 

Then  again  the  pitiful  story  of  Mrs.  Thornton  came  to 
her  mind.  It  is  not  sufficient  for  happiness  that  a  woman 
should  give  her  whole  heart  and  soul  in  fondest  and  most 
worshipping  love,  else  that  poor  lady  would  have  lived, 
not  died  ;  there  must  be  some  return,  something  for  that 
love  to  cling  to,  or  it  feeds  on  the  heart  that  cherishes  it, 
leaving  that  heart  to  die. 

Lord  Dynecourt  must  love  this  woman,  who  was  so 
noble,  so  beautiful,  and  so  superior  ;  and,  as  she  sat  there, 
Silvia  began  to  wonder  what  he  was  like.  Handsome, 
his  wife  said,  kind,  generous,  indulgent.  Was  he  noble 
in  heart  and  soul,  as  his  wife  was  ? 

Then  it  suddenly  occurred  to  Silvia  that  her  visit  to 
Dynewold  House  ought  to  end  ;  she  had  only  been  slaked 
there  during  its  master's  absence. 

"  Lady  Clotilde  will  have  no  time  for  me,"  she  thought ; 
"  now  all  her  time  and  attention  must  be  given  to  her 
husband.  I  shall  tell  her  that  I  ought  to  return  to  Mrs. 
Greville  to-day." 

She  was  so  humble,  so  unobtrusive,  that  she  never 
thought  of  remaining  now  that  the  lordly  master  of  the 
house  had  returned ;  she  never  dreamed  that  her  swept 
and  gracious  presence  was  always  delightful  to  Lady  Cio 


286  THROWN    ON   THE   WORLD. 

tilde ;  all  she  thought  was  Lady  Clotilde's  husband  had 
come  back  and  there  was  no  further  need  for  her.  She 
had  ended  her  duties  and  could  return  homo.  She 
sat  still  in  the  pretty  morning-room;  it  was  not  likely 
that  Lord  Dynecourt  would  go  there ;  it  was  a  room 
reserved  purposely  for  the  ladies  of  the  house. 

Two  hours  at  least,  passed  before  Lady  Clotilde  return- 
ed, and  then  her  face,  her  manner  were  so  changed  that 
Silvia  hardly  knew  her.  She  looked  brighter,  younger, 
fairer  than  she  had  ever  done.  Silvia  looked  up  with  a 
smile  as  the  high-born  patrician  lady  stooped  and  clasped 
her  arms  around  her  neck. 

"  I  know  what  that  means,"  said  Silvia,  laughingly; 
"  you  are  so  happy  that  your  happiness  overflows,  and 
you  would  fain  give  some  of  it  to  rne." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Lady  Clotilde.  "  I  am  very 
happy." 

She  did  not  add  that  her  happiness  was  caused  entirely 
by  her  husband's  kindness.  She  did  not  tell  Silvia  that 
her  heart  had  fluttered  like  that  of  a  young  dreaming  girl 
when  her  husband  kissed  her  face  more  lovingly  than  he 
had  ever  done  for  years,  and  said  : 

"  Why,  Clotilde,  a  quiet  life  suits  you.  I  never  saw 
you  looking  so  beautiful  or  so  well." 

"  Even  though  you  have  been  away  from  me  ?  "  she 
said.  "  Then  my  face  is  false  to  my  heart,  for  I  have 
wearied  inexpressibly  for  you." 

Perhaps  her  words  touched  him,  for  he  held  her  caress- 
ingly in  his  arms,  placing  her  on  a  couch,  and  taking  a 
seat  by  her  side. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  be  at  home  again,  Clotilde.  1  was 
getting  quite  tired ;  and  in  all  Austria  I  have  not  seen  a 
xace  like  yours." 

'  You  are  really  glad  to  see  me  then,  Basil ;  and  you 
will  not  leave  me  so  long  again  ?  " 

"No,"  he  replied,  thoughtfully.     "They  are  anxious 

for  me  to  return— in  fact,  Lord "  S has  made  me  a 

very  magnificent  proposition,  but  I  shall  not  accept  it.  I 
prefer  home  and  my  wife." 

^  Those  few  words  had  made  her  quite  happy ;  but  she 
did  not  repeat  them  to  Silvia.     She  rarely  spoke  of  her 


THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD.  289 

own  feelings  or  emotions.  Her  happiness  was  to  be  read 
in  her  shining  eyes,  her  smiling  lips,  her  brightened  face. 

^ "  I  have  been  telling  Lord  'Dynecourt  about  you,  Sil- 
via," she  said;  "how  fortnnato^I  have  been  in'  finding 
a  friend  so  lovable.  He  is  quite  anxious  to  see  you." 

"  I  hope  Lord  Dynecourt  is  well,"  said  Silvia,  half  shyly. 

She  felt  in  some  awe  of  this  great  nobleman. 

"He  is  well,  and  he  is  so  pleased  with  the  picture 
gallery.  Ah,  Silvia,  I  am  more  than  a  thousand  times 
repaid  for  my  trouble ;  the  only  annoyance  ;«t  that  the 
portrait  did  not  come  first." 

"  Dear  Lady  Clotilde,"  said  Silvia,  quietly,  "  I  have 
been  so  happy  with  you — so  happy  to  have  been  even  the 
least  service  to  you ;  but  now  that  Lord  Dynecourt  has 
returned,  I  must  go ;  Mrs.  Greville  is  all  alone.  I  thought 
if  you  were  willing,  I  would  go  to-night." 

Lady  Clotilde  laughed  aloud.  It  was  the  happiest  and 
sweetest  peal  of  laughter  that  Silvia  ever  heard  from  her 
lips. 

"  My  dearest  Silvia,"  she  said,  "  you  will  pardon  me  ; 
do  nothing  of  the  kind.  Lord  Dynecourt  desires  to  see 
you.  I  have  been  telling  him  about  Cyril.  I  was  so  pleased 
to  excite  his  interest  in  him.  It  is  in  Lord  Dynecourt's 
power  to  advance  so  materially  your  boy's  interests  in 
life.  Ah,  me!  if  he  had  but  a  son  of  his  own!  like 
yours."  They  knew  so  little,  either  of  them  —  Heaven 
help  them  !  —  of  the  truth. 

"  Of  course,"  continued  Lady  Clotilde,  "  if  you  really 
prefer  going  home,  I  must  be  content.  Nor  must  I  for- 

get  how  kind  Mrs.  Greville  has  been  to  me ;  but  stay 
ere  to-night,  Silvia.  You  must  not  run  away  the  same 
day  Lord  Dynecourt  returns." 

"  I  will  stay,  with  pleasure,  if  you  are  quite  snre  that 
I  shall  not  be  in  the  way.  That  was  my  great  dread." 

Lady  Clotilde  laughed  again. 

"  There  is  not  much  fear.  Lord  Dynecourt  has  given 
orders  that  he  shall  be  denied  to  all  visitors  to-day ;  and 
this  evening  when  we  are  quite  alone,  you  shall  tell  him 
all  about  Cyril.  Who  knows,  under  such  auspices  as  my 
lord's,  he  may  rise  to  be  prime  minister  some  day." 

Silvia  kissed  the  kindly  hands  clasping  hers. 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

"  I  have  never  spoken  to  you  on  the  subject  before," 
continued  Lady  Clotilde,  "  but  I  may  as  well  tell  you  now 
that,  if  you  are  willing,  Silvia,  I  shall  make  your  boy's 
future  my  care.  I  have  more  money  than  I  know  what 
to  do  with.  I  should  like  to  send  him  to  college,  and  have 
him  brought  up  in  some  profession.  He  is  so  clever,  he 
will  soon  make  his  way." 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you,"  she  said.  "  I  can- 
not thank  you,  but  I  pray  Heaven  to  reward  yon." 

"  That  is  settled  then,"  said  Lady  Clotilde,  gaily,  "  and 
we  shall  spend  a  pleasant  evening.  Lord  Dynecourt  took 
luncheon  when  he  arrived,  so  that  we  shall  not  meet 
again  until  dinner  time.  My  husband  is  in  his  study — the 
house  steward  is  with  him,  and  I  have  an  engagement. 
How  shall  you  amuse  yourself,  Silvia?  " 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  but  think  of  you  and  your  kind- 
ness," she  replied.  "  Oh  !  Lady  Clotilde,  I  am  so  grate- 
ful to  you;  I  am  at  a  loss  how  to  thank  Heaven  for 
having  found  me  such  a  friend." 

Lady  Clotilde  laid  her  gentle  hand  on  the  fair,  bowed 
head. 

"  You  have  had  sorrow  enough  in  your  brief  life,"  she 
said.  "  I  am  pleased  that  I  can  help  to  make  you  happier." 

Then  she  went  away,  leaving  Silvia  more  happy,  more 
grateful  than  words  can  tell.  She  went  to  the  dining- 
room,  where  lunch  was  prepared,  and  then  hesitated  as 
to  how  she  should  spend  the  afternoon. 

A  sudden  thought  struck  her.  Lady  Clotilde  had  pur- 
chased a  quantity  of  photographs,  and  had  expressed  a 
wish  as  to  their  arrangement. 

"  I  shall  just  have  time  to  do  them,"  she  thought. 

They  were  on  the  table  of  a  pretty  boudoir  that  opened 
into  the  drawing-room,  a  pretty,  oozy  little  nook,  not 
much  used,  except  when  Lady  Clotilde  had  visitors.  It 
was  divided  from  the  suite  of  drawing-rooms  by  a  beauti- 
ful little  arc!),  and  rich  hangings  of  blue  velvet. 

As  Silvia  pat  down  to  the  table,  she  smiled  to  herself, 
thinking  how  silent  those  magnificent  rooms  were.  Lady 
Clotilde  was  out,  Lord  Dynecourt  engaged — it  seemed  as 
though  she  had  the  whole  of  that  immense  house  to  her* 
self. 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  291 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 

THE   MAN    WHO    BETRAYED   HER. 

THE  photographs  were  very  beautiful.  "When  she  came 
to  one  representing  scenes  in  France  or  Italy,  she  lingered 
over  it;  but  when  it  was  of  a  Scotch  mountain  or  lake, 
those  wild,  weird  hills,  all  covered  with  heather,  there 
rose  before  her  that  home  where  her  one  brief  life  had 
been  spent  —  the  calm,  shining  lake,  the  purple,  sloping 
hills,  the  old  gray  church,  the  sunlit  garden,  the  pretty 
home  —  she  heard  the  servant's  voice,  she  saw  her  hus- 
band's face,  and  a  low  cry  of  anguish  came  from  her  lips. 

"  Shall  I  never  he  able  to  forget?  "  she  cried.  "  Oh, 
bonnie  Scotland !  even  your  name,  even  the  sight  of  the 
heather  and  the  blue  hills,  is  full  of  anguish  for  me !  " 

Then  she  stifled  the  sob  that  rose  to  her  lips,  for  the 
drawing  -  room  door  opened,  and  a  strange  gentleman 
entered,  ushered  in  by  a  footman. 

"  Tell  Lord  Dynecourt  I  will  not  detain  him  longer 
than  five  minutes,"  said  the  stranger  to  the  servant;  "  but 
my  business  is  important." 

Silvia  looked  at  the  hangings ;  they  were  drawn  almost 
close. 

"  There  is  no  need  for  me  to  go  away,"  she  said  ;  "  I 
can  take  the  little  stand  to  the  window,  where  I  can 
neither  see  nor  hear." 

She  carried  the  stand  to  the  window,  and  continued  her 
occupation,  arranging  and  numbering  the  photographs, 
without  giving  even  a  thought  to  the  gentlemen  in  the 
next  room. 

How  long  she  had  been  dreaming  over  those  pictures 
—  how  long  that  conversation  in  the  drawing-room  had 
lasted,  she  knew  not ;  it  was  the  sound  of  a  voice  that 
roused  her. 

A  voice  that  made  the  warm  blood  in  her  veins  freeze 
and  stand  still — a  voice  that  seemed  to  paralyze  even  her 
very  heart  and  stop  its  beating — that  brought  great  drops 


292  THROWN    ON    THE   WORLD. 

of  anguish  to  her  brow — that  made  her  fall  on  her  knees, 
with  clinched  hands,  and  wide  -  open,  wild  eyes.  What 
was  it  ? 

The  voice  of  the  man  she  had  loved  so  dearly — the 
voice  that  had  wooed  her  in  such  soft,  honeyed  accents  in 
the  green  lanes  of  Rosebank — the  roice  that  had  opened 
all  Paradise  to  her — that  had  whispered  to  her  of  love 
and  poetry  —  that  had  lured  her  from  home,  and  had 
never  addressed  her  but  in  terms  of  love  and  tenderness. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  cried.  "Ah!  great  Heaven  !  What 
does  that  sound  mean  ?  " 

So  she  knelt,  with  wild,  imploring  eyes,  and  out- 
stretched arms.  There  was  no  mistake;  it  was  richer, 
deeper,  fuller,  more  manly  in  tone,  but  it  was  as  surely 
the  voice  of  the  man  she  believed  to  be  her  husband  as 
she  was  kneeling  there. 

She  must  see — she  must  see  for  herself  if  sound  or 
fancy  had  misled  her.  She  must  see  what  face  went  with 
bhat  voice — to  whom  it  belonged. 

Gently  and  slowly  she  rose  from  her  knees;  she  touched 
the  velvet  hangings,  and  they  parted  half  an  inch  ;  she 
looked,  with  wild,  wondering,  wistful  eyes,  and  saw  two 
gentlemen — one,  quite  a  stranger  to  her,  talking  earnestly, 
evidently  a  visitor;  the  other,  leaning  in  a  careless,  grace- 
ful attitude  against  the  richly  carved  mantle-piece,  evi- 
dently the  master  of  the  house,  was  the  man  who  had 
betrayed  her— the  man  who,  calling  himself  Ulric  liymer, 
had  married  her! 

For  some  few  moments  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  life  itself 
must  leave  her — that  even  as  she  stood  there  she  must  die. 

She  was  looking  again  on  the  face  that  had  been  all  the 
world  to  her.  Those  lips  had  kissed  her  a  thousand  times; 
those  eyes  had  looked  into  hers  with  love  unutterable;  it 
was  the  face  she  had  worshipped  as  the  morning  star  of 
her  life — that  face  that  had  been  her  light,  her  sim-him-. 

It  was  the  man  she  had  loved  with  the  deepest,  truest 
love  of  her  heart — the  husband  of  her  girlhood,  the  father 
of  her  child. 

And  who  was  he?     What  guilt  lay  between  them  ? 

Slowly  the  blue  curtain  fell  from  her  hands;  it  was  but 
as  though  a  breath  of  wind  had  moved  it;  no  one  noticed 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  293 

"it;  and  then  she  tried  to  regain  her  seat.  She  had  seen 
enough ;  but  the  strength  had  all  left  her ;  the  coldness 
and  numbness  of  death  seemed  to  have  fallen  over  her; 
she  had  not  the  power  to  stir. 

White,  ghastly,  cold,  she  stood,  while  the  deep,  rich 
voice  and  musical  laugh  still  sounded  near  her. 

Who  was  he  ?  The  beloved  husband  of  her  dearest 
friend — the  husband  whom  Lady  Clotilde  loved  with  her 
whole  heart  —  the  rich,  powerful,  mighty  Lord  Dyne- 
court — a  peer  of  the  realm,  master  of  that  magnificent 
mansion  !  Yet,  surely  as  Heaven  was  above  her,  her 
true,  lawful  husband,  the  father  of  her  child. 

Her  child  !  Those  two  words  seemed  to  pierce  her 
heart  with  a  burning  pain,  a  wild  wonder  if  she  were  not 
mad  or  dreaming.  If  Ulric  Rymer  were  indeed  before 
her,  then  she,  not  Lady  Clotilde,  was  the  true  Lady 
Dynecourt,  and  Cyril — the  child  without  a  name — over 
whose  fate  she  mourned,  was  the  true  heir  to  that  great 
princely  race. 

She  tried,  even  as  she  stood  there,  to  think  it  over 
calmly.  She  might  as  well  have  tried  to  stop,  with  her 
two  little  hands,  the  courses  of  a  raging  torrent.  Her 
brain  burned  ;  that  well-remembered  voice  seemed  to  be 
filling  her  ears  with  the  strangest  sound ;  a  thick  mist 
was  spreading  before  her  eyes,  a  chill  like  that  of  death 
•was  shooting  through  her  veins. 

Like  a  clear  sounding  bell  these  words  came  to  her: 

"  If  I  am  his  wife,  what  is  Lady  Clotilde  ?  " 

Lady  Clotilde,  whose  life  was  bound  in  his!  Horror, 
fear,  confusion,  dismay,  seemed  to  spread  on  every  side  of 
her.  If  her  white  lips  could  have  moved  it  would  have 
been  to  have  moaned  aloud  in  her  misery  ;  but  the  powt/r 
of  speech,  as  of  movement,  had  gone  from  her. 

As  she  stood  so  she  fell ;  the  mist  had  blinded  her,  the 
chill  had  paralyzed  her  ;  she  fell  like  one  dead. 

The  two  gentlemen  were  exchanging  adieus,  they  were 
deeply  interested  in  talking,  and  did  not  notice  the  slight 
sound  ;  no  one  entered  the  room,  no  one  missed  her  until 
Lady  Clotilde  returned,  and  her  first  question  was  for 
Mrs.  Rymer. 

Then,  after  some  delay,  they  found  her  lying  in  that 


294  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

pretty,  silent  room,  like  one  dead.  Lady  Clotilde  gave  a 
cry  of  dismay. 

"  She's  dead !  "  said  one  of  the  servants ;  but  Lady 
Clotilde  placed  her  hand  on  Silvia's  heart. 

"  She  has  swooned,  she  is  not  dead,"  she  said.  "  Carry 
her  gently  to  her  room  and  lay  her  on  the  bed." 

So,  when  Silvia  opened  her  eyes  a;_r:iin,  it  was  to  see 
Lady  Clotilda's  kind  face  bent  with  unutterable  anxiety 
over  her. 

"  Are  you  better,  Silvia  ?  You  have  been  very  ill," 
said  the  sweet  voice. 

"I  must  go  home,"  she  cried,  wildly  ;  "  I  am  ill.  Oh  ! 
Lady  Clotilde,  do  not  detain  me — I  shall  die  if  I  am  kept 
here — let  me  go  home." 

Lady  Clotilde  looked  as  she  felt — bewildered. 

"  My  dearest  Silvia,  what  is  the  matter  ?  You  frighten 
me.  Certainly  you  shall  go  home,  if  you  wish.  What 
has  made  you  so  ill  ?  I  cannot  understand." 

But  all  the  reply  made  to  her  was  the  one  wild,  pitiful 
cry  :  "  Let  me  go  home,  let  me  go  home." 

"  It  is  a  bad  hysterical  attack,"'  said  the  doctor,  who 
had  been  summoned ;  "  and,  Lady  Dynecourt,  I  think 
the  best  plan  will  be  to  comply  with  the  patient's  request, 
and  let  her  go  home." 


CHAPTER   LXYII. 
"WHY  SHOULD  SHE  SHRINK  FROM  ME?" 

MRS.  GREVILLE  sat  \\ith  a  look  of  unusual  melancholy 
on  her  handsome  face.  Jt  was  not  a  habit  of  hers  to  be 
either  very  affectionate  or  very  demonstrative,  but  she 
had  learned  to  love  Silvia  ;  the  beautiful,  gentle  com- 
panion had  won  her  whole  liking,  and  now  that  she  lay 
dangerously  ill,  almost  at  the  point  of  death,  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville  felt  more  sad  than  she  had  done  in  her  whole  life 
before. 

As  she  sat  there,  Lady  Dynecourt  was  announced,  and 
Mrs.  Greville  hastened  to  meet  her. 

"Is  this  true,"  asked  Lady  Clotilde,  "  about  Mrs.  Ky- 
mer's  illness  ?  I  heard  it  last  night,  and  I  have  hastened 
to  inquire." 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  295 

"  Most  unfortunately,  it  is  true.  It  is  an  illness  I  can- 
not understand.  If  I  did  not  know  her  so  well,  I  should 
say  that  some  terrible  secret  trouble  had  suddenly  over- 
taken her.  It  seems  to  me  more  mental  than  physical; 
yet  what  trouble  could  so  suddenly  bring  her  to  the  verge 
of  the  grave  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  see  her,"  said  Lady  Clotilde  impul- 
sively. 

"  That  is  the  strange  part  of  the  story,"  continued  Mrs. 
Greville. 

"  She  sent  for  me  this  morning,  and  when  I  went  she 
told  me  that  she  found  she  was  going  to  bo  very  ill,  that 
she  felt  all  the  symptoms  of  a  bad  fever,  and  she  implor- 
ed mo  to  have  her  sent  to  an  infirmary." 

Lady  Clotilde  uttered  a  little  cry  of  wonder  and  sur- 
prise. 

"I  told  her  the  very  idea  was  absurd,  that  she  was  like 
my  own  sister  to  me,  and  that  so  far  from  sending  her 
away  I  should  have  every  possible  care  and  attention 
lavished  upon  her." 

"  What  did  she  say  then  ? "  eagerly  inquired  Lady 
Clotilde. 

"  She  prayed  me,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  to  consent. 
She  said  one  of  the  maids  told  her  she  had  been  delirious 
in  the  night,  'and  it  would  be  so  terrible,'  she  added, 
'if  I  were  to  be  delirious  lien-.'  ' 

"Why  here  more  than  anywhere  else? "  asked  Lady 
Dynecourt. 

"  That  puzzled  me,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  cannot  tell, 
only  that  it  evidently  agonized  her  to  think  of  it.  I  told 
her  nothing  would  induce  me  to  consent.  And  then 
she  prayed  me,  if  she  should  be  very  ill,  not  to  go  near 
her,  but  leave  her  to  strangers.  I  cannot  help  thinking 
that  there  is  evidently  something  on  her  mind  she  fears 
speaking  of." 

"  It  certainly  does  seem  like  it,"  said  Lady  Clotilde, 
musingly. 

"  The  strangest  part  is,  that  just  as  I  was  going  out  of 
her  room,  she  calh-d  me  back,  and  said  to  me,  for  the 
^ove  of  Heaven  not  to  allow  you,  if  she  were  ill  and 
delirious,  to  enter  the  room.  I  told  her  you  should  not ; 


296  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

and  that  puzzles  me  most,  for  I  am  certain  she  loves 
you  best  in  all  the  world  after  her  son." 

Lady  Clotilde  looked  thoughtful. 

"  As  you  say,  it  is  strange.  I  do  not  understand  it.  I 
came  purposely  to  see  her  ;  but  as  she  has  urged  that  wish 
upon  you  I  shall  not,  of  course,  go  near." 

The  two  ladies  talked  for  some  little  time  longer,  but 
Mrs  Greville  was  evidently  depressed  and  sad  at  heart. 
Lady  Clotilde  was  surprised  and  hurt.  As  she  drove 
home  again  her  thoughts  were  all  with  the  beautiful, 
gentle  girl  she  had  learned  to  love  so  dearly. 

"  I  am  in  her  confidence,"  she  thought.  "  I  know  the 
story  of  her  life.  She  could  say  nothing,  even  in  the 
madness  of  fever,  that  I  should  not  understand.  Why 
should  she  shrink  from  me  ?  " 

And  that  thought  pursued  her  and  made  her  wretched. 
There  was  a  secret  and  a  mystery  in  it,  and  Lady  Clotilde 
hated  both ;  besides,  what  could  it  be  ?  Why  should  she 
shrink  from  her  best  friend? 

Although  her  husband  was  at  home,  and  visitors  con- 
stantly made  Dynewold  House  gay,  Lady  Clotilde  could 
not  and  did  not  for  one  moment  forget  Silvia.  She  sent 
several  times  each  day  to  inquire  about  her,  and  the 
answer  was  always  the  same.  Mrs.  Rymer  was  exceed- 
ingly ill.  Lord  Dynecourt  had  dismissed  the  matter  in 
very  few  words.  On  the  day  of  his  return  home,  when 
he  met  his  wife  at  dinner,  he  said,  indifferently : 

"  So  your  friend  is  ill,  Clotilde." 

He  look?d  up  in  astonishment  when  Lady  Dynecourt 
told  him  where  she  had  been  found. 

".Fainted  in  the  boudoir,  did  she  ?  Why  I  was  in  the 
drawing-room  myself,  talking  to  a  gentleman  on  business 
and  I  never  heard  a  sound." 

"  It  could  not  have  been  at  the  same  time,  then.  I  was 
quite  alarmed,"  said  Lady  Clotilde.  "  Besides,  I  am  so 
sorry  and  so  disappointed  that  you  did  not  see  her." 

"  Is  she  so  very  beautiful,  then?"  asked  Lord  Dyne- 
court. 

"  I  have  never  seen  another  face  quite  like  hers,"  she 
replied. 

"  It  is  not  only  beautiful,  but  so  sweet,  so  loving,  so 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  297 

gentle,  with  a  veil  of  something  like  sadness  over  it.    Ob, 
Basil,  you  would  admire  her." 

^  Well,  I  must  live  in  hopes  of  seeing  her  some  day," 
said  Lord  Dynecourt  with  a  smile.  "  I  ain  amused  at  your 
enthusiasm,  Clotilde." 

And  witli  those  few  careless  words  he  had  dismissed 
the  matter  from  his  mind.  If  any  one  had  told  him  that 
the  gentle  lady  whom  his  wife  had  loved  was  the  Silvia 
he  had  wooed,  won,  and  deserted,  he  would  not  have 
believed  it. 

The  great  disappointment  of  Lord  Dynecourt's  married 
life  was  that  he  had  no  heir.  He  bore  the  deepest 
hatred  against  his  next  of  kin. 

"  If  I  had  but  one  son,"  he  was  always  saying ;  "  one 
eon  to  succeed  mo,  to  carry  on  my  name,  to  continue  my 
race,  I  should  be  happy.  I  shall  hardly  rest  in  my  grave, 
knowing  that  the  man  I  detest  is  in  my  place." 

He  said  but  little  of  his  disappointment,  but  it  was 
none  the  less  hard  to  bear.  No  one  who  Booked  at  the 
handsome  face  would  have  thought  a  canker-worm  preyed 
at  the  man's  heart ;  no  one  could  have  imagined  that,  by 
night  and  day,  one  ungratih'ed  longing  preyed  upon  him, 
robbing  life  of  its  pleasures  and  tranquility.  He  was  not 
a  religious  man — not  even  a  moral  man — but  he  did  ask 
himself  at  times  if  this  denial  of  the  only  boon  there 
was  left  on  earth  for  him  to  desire  was  a  punishment  of 
his  sin.  .He  did  ask  himself  if  it  would  not  have  been 
better,  despite  Lady  Clotilde's  wealth  and  her  high  con- 
nections, if  he  had  been  content  with  Silvia  and  Silvia's 
beautiful  boy. 

Ah,  for  such  a  son  to  succeed  him — for  such  a  boy  to 
take  his  name  and  honors !  He  had  thought  but  little  ol 
the  child.  It  had  seemed  to  him  rather  a  trouble  than 
otherwise,  only  that  Silvia's  passionate  worship  amused 
him;  but  of  late,  since  the  desire  of  a  son  and  heir  had 
been  paramount  with  him,  he  had  begun  to  think  more 
of  little  Cyril.  He  had  begun  to  wonder  if  he  were 
living  or  dead  —  what  his  mother  had  been  able  to  do 
for  him.  Some  faint  shadow  of  parental  affection  awoke 
in  his  heart.  Would  he  have  believed  it,  if  he  had  been 
told  that  the  little  child  whom  his  wife  loved,  and  for 


298  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

whom  lie  had  been  asked  to  use  all  his  influence,  was  his 
own  forsaken  son  ? 

Lord  Dynecourt  was  not  altogether  a  happy  man  ;  he 
had  every  luxury  and  magnificence  this  world  can  give ; 
he  was  rich,  powerful,  eagerly  courted  ;  fair  faces  smiled 
on  him,  bright  eyes  brightened  for  him,  but  he  was  not 
happy.  There  was  a  vague,  restless  discontent  always 
hanging  over  him  ;  there  were  times  when  Silvia's  loving 
face  rose  before  him,  and  he  hated  himself. 

"  One  thing  is  quite  certain,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  the 
vices  of  youth  do  not  make  pleasant  companions  for 
middle  age." 

He  had.  loved  her  better  than  he  thought;  it  had 
seemed  to  him  so  easy  to  woo  her,  to  win  her,  and  to 
leave  her. 

Hundreds  of  men  did  the  same  thing,  and  suffered 
nothing.  Either  his  heart  was  not  quite  hard  enough,  or 
lie  had  learned  to  care  for  her  more  deeply  and  truly  than 
he  had  imagined  himself  to  have  done. 

Since  the  day  he  wrote  that  cold,  heartless  letter,  he 
had  heard  nothing  of  her.  His  lawyers  had  not  succeed- 
ed in  tracing  her.  She  had  completely  ignored  all  the 
wishes  he  had  expressed ;  she  had  never  applied  for  one 
shilling  of  the  money  set  aside  for  her,  which  had  now 
accumulated  into  a  goodly  sum.  Perhaps,  had  he  known 
where  she  was.  what  she  was  doing,  how  she  fared,  he 
would  have  been  less  haunted  by  her ;  it  was  the  very 
mystery  surrounding  her  that  kept  her  alive  in  his 
thoughts. 

Many  laugh  at  what  is  commonly  called  magnetism  ; 
but  there  are  depths  in  philosophy  unfrhown  to  us.  Why, 
when  some  one  we  love,  or  have  loved,  is  near,  and  we 
do  not  know  it,  do  our  thoughts  run  so  continually  upon 
them?  Afterwards  we  learn  that  they  have  been  near, 
and  wonder  at  it.  So  the  thought  of  Silvia  was  constantly 
with  Lord  Dynecourt. 

"  I    cannot    imagine,"  he   said   one   day    to   himself, 

"  why  my  thoughts  are  always  going  back  to  that  time.  I 

not  know  that  it  was  in  my  nature  to  be  so  constant." 

";<»tilde"  he  said  to  his  wife,   what  has  become  of 

beautiful  protegee?     "You   promised  me   a   rare 


THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD.  299 

beauty,  and  now  I  hear  nothing  of  her.  What  is  the 
reason  ? " 

"  She  still  continues  very  ill,"  said  Lady  Clotilde ; 
"  she  has  had  a  terrible  fever.  However,  I  hope  she  may 
soon  be  sufficently  recovered  to  see  me." 

"  I  like  Mrs.  Greville,"  continued  Lord  Dynecourt ; 
"  she  is  one  of  the  few  women  who  are  really  amusing. 
When  you  go  to  see  your  protegee,  I  will  go  with  you  to 
pay  court  to  the  fair  young  widow." 

And  his  wife  smiled,  all  unconscious  of  what  that  visit 
was  to  bring  forth. 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

"  I    MUST    SPAKE    HER    AT    ANY    SACRIFICE." 

WORDS  would  but  weakly  describe  the  horror  that 
overtook  the  unhappy  Silvia.  Waking  from  that  long 
sleep  was  more  bitter  than  death;  the  sudden  rush  of 
thought,  the  whirl  of  emotion,  the  shock,  the  fear,  the 
surprise,  were  all  too  much  for  her.  That  she  should 
find  him  again,  and  find  him  thus!  That  the  man  she 
knew  now  to  be  her  own  husband,  was  also  known  as  the 
husband  of  the  woman  she  revered  and  honored  more 
than  all  the  world  beside. 

She  could  not  recover  from  the  shock  ;  it  was  too  terri- 
ble for  her.  She  raised  her  eyes,  as  one  bewildered,  from 
earth  to  Heaven.  What  was  she  to  do  now  ?  Of  all  the 
unlocked  -  for,  unexpected  complications  fate  could  have 
arranged  for  her,  this  was  surely  the  last  she  had  expect- 
ed, the  last  thing  she  had  looked  for.  She  had  resolved 
for  her  boy's  sake*  to  claim  justice  at  his  hand*.  How 
could  she  do  that  now  —  when  justice  to  herself  would 
mean  sorrow,  humiliation,  and  disgrace  unutterable  for 
the  lady  she  loved  and  revered  ?  She  knew  how  Lady 
Clotilde  loved  him,  unworthy  as  he  might  be  of  such  love. 
Was  she  to  claim  him,  and  break  the  heart  that  had  never 
beaten  with  anything  but  the  kindest  affection  for  her? 
Was  she  to  take  the  husband  of  Lady  Clotilde  away  from 
her? 


300.  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  I  can  never  do  it,"  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands  in 
the  greatest  distress.  "  I  can  never  do  it." 

Then  again,  word  by  word,  all  that  Lady  Clotilde  had 
ever  said  on  the  subject  rose  before  her ;  she  remember- 
ed it  so  vividly — her  indignant  denunciation  of  the  wrong 
done,  her  lofty  principle,  her  clearly- defined,  clearly- 
expressed  ideas;  and  Silvia  knew,  as  she  thought  it  over, 
that  if  Lady  Clotilde  had  even  the  faintest  gleam  of  sus- 
picion, she  would  lay  clown  name,  position,  love — any, 
even  life  itself,  should  it  be  needful  —  but  she  would 
have  right  done. 

"  How  can  I — how  can  I  ?  "  she  cried,  wringing  her 
hands.  "  It  is  not  long  since  she  told  me  how  dearly  she 
loved  him.  It  would  be  easier  to  plunge  a  dagger  into 
her  heart.  The  punishment  of  his  sin  and  my  folly 
would  all  fall  upon  her,  and  she  is  purity  itself." 

The  bare  thought  of  bringing  even  the  shadow  of  pain 
to  that  gentle  heart  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  She, 
who  knew  Lady  Clotilde  so  well,  could  picture  to  herself 
the  depths  of  her  anguish,  the  long,  dreary,  hopeless 
future  deprived  of  all  she  held  most  dear,  and  Silvia's 
generous  heart  recoiled  with  horror  from  the  thought  of 
such  suffering. 

"  I  must  spare  her,  I  must  shield  her,"  she  cried, 
"  at  any  sacrifice  !  " 

Yet  against  that  she  had  two  motives.  Lady  Clotilde 
if  she  knew  the  truth,  would  not  thank  her  for  so  sparing 
her.  She  would  prefer,  as  she  had  often  told  her,  know- 
ing the  truth  to  being  deceived.  There  was  yet  another 
reason.  For  herself  she  might  be  generous  and  self- 
sacrificing  as  she  would,  but  there  was  Cyril  —  Cyril,  no 
longer  a  nameless  child,  but  heir  to  all  the  glory  of  the 
Dynecourts.  To  forego  justice  for  herself  would  also  be 
to  forego  justice  for  him  ;  to  deprive  herself  of  what  was 
so  justly  her  due,  would  also  be  to  deprive  him  of  his 
birthright. 

"  I  cannot  do  that,"  she  said  to  herself —  "  I  must  not 
do  it ;  for  Cyril's  sake  I  must  claim  Cyril's  own,  cost 
what  it  may." 

So,  a  hundred  times  each  hour,  she  argued  to  herself; 
one  reason  overstepping  another,  one  argument  seeming 


THROWN    ON    THE   WORLD.  301 

to  her  stronger  than  another,  until  the  tired  brain  grew 
weary,  and  the  aching  heart  ready  to  break. 

What  was  she  to  do?  She  appealed  from  earth  to 
Heaven ;  she  raised  her  weeping  eyes  to  the  clear,  blue 
skies ;  she  tried  to  quiet  the  whirl  of  her  thoughts,  and 
find  out  what  her  duty  was.  She  tried  to  find  the  highest 
and  the  noblest,  but  the  storm  of  emotion  was  too  great 
for  her — thoughts,  feelings,  inclination,  duty,  all  warred 
together ;  the  overtaxed  brain  gave  way,  and  a  violent 
fever  was  the  result.  She  was  not  the  first  whom  duty, 
inclination,  principle,  and  pity,  all  warring  together,  had 
brought  to  the  verge  of  the  grave.  "When  she  discovered 
what  was  the  matter  with  herself,  and  tried  in  vain  to 
arrange  her  wandering  thoughts,  she  grew  still  more 
frightened.  What  would  happen  if  delirium  should  seize 
her,  and  she  should  talk  of  those  things  that  she  would  so 
fain  have  kept  secret  ?  She  knew  Lady  Clotilde's  kindly 
feeling  for  her.  What  if  she  should  come  to  visit  her, 
and  hear  only  one  word  of  this  terrible  secret  ? 

Silvia  trembled ;  and  in  her  nervous  fear  she  did 
exactly  what  she  should  have  avoided  —  asked  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville  not  to  let  Lady  Dynecourt  see  her,  so  betraying  to 
both  a  hidden,  secret  fear  they  could  not  understand. 

She  was  some  time  in  recovering ;  but  Mrs.  Greville 
kept  faith  most  honorably  with  her.  She  allowed  no 
visitors,  however  friendly,  to  enter  the  room  ;  she  engaged 
a  strange  nurse,  accustomed  to  delirious  patients,  who 
paid  no  more  heed  to  her  raving  than  if  it  had  been  so 
much  Greek ;  and  then,  when  slowly,  but  surely,  Silvia 
recovered,  she  forebore  asking  her  any  questions,  or  teas- 
ing her  by  any  remarks,  which  was,  perhaps,  the  greatest 
kindness  of  all. 

Days  passed  by,  and  Silvia,  looking  like  the  shadow  of 
her  former  self,  began  to  resume  her  duties  and  take  up 
the  burden  of  life.  She  had  come  to  no  decision  as  to 
what  she  should  do;  she  was  no  nearer  any  definite 
resolution  than  she  had  ever  been;  it  was  all  chaos  to 
her.  She  could  see  no  gleam  of  light  in  the  darkness ; 
no  sunshine,  no  break  in  the  thick  cloud.  Turn  which 
way  she  would,  all  was  misery,  confusion,  unhappiness, 
and  despair. 


302  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD. 

"  If  I  could  but  find  some  stronger,  clearer  mind  than 
my  own  to  lean  upon,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  if  I  could 
but  take  my  trouble  to  some  wise,  learned,  good  man,  who 
could  tell  me  in  Heaven's  name,  and  for  Heaven's  sake, 
what  was  best,  how  thankful  I  should  be.  I  must  wait 
— I  must  do  nothing  hurriedly." 

But  the  sound  of  the  name  Dynecourt  had  grown 
almost  terrible  to  her  —  it  was  full  of  torture.  One  hour 
she  said  to  herself  that  she  must  take  patience — she  must 
wait  —  do  nothing  on  her  own  responsibility;  the  next 
such  patience,  such  waiting,  seemed  to  her  little  less  than 
deadly  sin.  There  was  a  duty  to  be  done,  and  she  must 
do  it ;  there  was  justice  to  be  claimed,  she  must  claim  it. 

No  wonder  that  the  sweet  face  grew  thinner  and 
whiter  every  day.  Mrs.  Greville  became  alarmed  at  last. 

"  Silvia,"  she  said,  one  day,  "  I  must  speak  plainly  to 
you.  Do  you  not  know  that  unless  you  change,  and  that 
quickly,  you  must  die  ?  " 

Silvia  raised  her  beautiful,  startled  eyes  to  the  hand- 
some face. 

"  I  do  not  know  anything  of  the  kind,"  she  said, 
gravely. 

"  Then  it  is  high  time  that  you  should  be  told  that  you 
are  just  recovering  from  a  dangerous  illness.  You  neither 
eat  nor  sleep,  smile  or  rest.  How  do  you  expect  to  get 
strong  ?  " 

"  I  had  no  thought  about  it,"  said  Silvia. 

"  No  ;  that  is  very  evident.  Do  you  want  to  leave 
your  boy  quite  alone  in  the  world  ?  " 

The  lovely,  gentle  face  grew  white  and  wistful. 

"My  boy!  Oh,  no — a  thousand  times  no!  What 
could  he  do  without  me  ?  " 

'  Then  change  your  ways,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville, brusquely.  I  cannot  help  seeing  that  some  terrible 
sorrow  is  preying  upon  you  and  eating  your  very  life 
away.  I  do  not  ask  what  it  is;  I  do  not  seek  your 
confidence ;  but  I  advise  you,  if,  for  your  son's  sake, 
you  would  wish  to  live,  do  something  —  anything  rather 
than  what  you  are  doing  now." 

Very  plain  words,  but  Mrs.  Greville  was  accustomed 


THROWN   ON   THE   WOELD.  303 

to  very  plain  speaking,  and  in  this  case  it  was  most  benefi- 
cial. 

"For  my  boy's  sake  I  must  live,"  thought  Silvia; 
"  yet  for  me  life  can  never  be  anything  but  a  burden." 

The  day  following,  ;is  she  sat  in  the  library,  writing 
some  letters  for  Mrs.  Greville,  that  frank,  imperious  lady 
entered. 

"  Now,  Silvia,  yon  remember  that  little  lecture  I  gave 
you  yesterday  ;  show  that  you  have  profited  by  it.  Lady 
Clotilde  is  here,  and  wishes  you  to  go  out  ifor  a  drive 
with  her  ?  " 

The  girl  shrunk,  white  and  shuddering,  faint  with 
dread,  even  at  the  very  sound  of  the  name. 

"  I — I  cannot  go,"  she  cried  faintly. 

"  Nonsense,"  was  the  calm  reply.  "  You  must — it  will 
do  you  good.  Surely  you  cannot  refuse  Lady  Clotilde 
any  favor  she  asks  from  you  ?  " 

Silvia  trembled  violently. 

"  Whatever  it  is  that  is  wrong,"  said  Mrs.  Greville  to 
herself,  "  it  concerns  Lady  Clotilde,  although  she  may  not 
know  it." 

How  the  argument  would  have  ended  is  quite  uncer- 
tain, but  that  Lady  Dynecourt  appeared  that  moment  on 
the  scene. 

"  Silvia,"  she  cried,  "  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you !  I  had 
not  patience  to  wait  for  your  answer,  so  I  followed  Mrs. 
Greville.  Do  you  know  that  it  is  three  weeks  since  I 
saw  you." 

And  Lady  Clotilde,  bending  down,  kissed  the  white 
face,  while  a  low  moan  came  from  Silvia's  lips. 

"If  I  could  but  die!"  she  murmured  to  herself. 
"  How  am  I  to  bear  it  ?  " 

How  was  she  to  stab  that  loving  heart,  to  blight  that 
life,  to  bow  that  graceful  head  with  such  deep,  unmerited 
shame  ? 

"I  will  not  hear  one  word  of  excuse,"  said  Lady 
Clotilde.  "The  morning  is  fine,  the  air  fresh.  Come, 
Silvia,  you  cannot  say  nay  to  me." 


304:  THkuWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

FACE  TO  FACE  AT  LAST. 

"  SILVIA,"  said  Lady  Dynecourt,  when  they  were  out 
of  sight,  "I  cannot  understand  you;  you  make  me  very 
unhappy.  Have  I  done  anything  that  has  displeased 
you?" 

The  white,  silent  face  was  raised  for  one  half-minute, 
and  then  turned  silently  away. 

"  How  could  you  displease  me,  Lady  Clotilde  ?  You 
have  always  been  kindness  itself  to  me." 

"  Then  tell  me  frankly,  why  have  you  changed  so 
utterly  to  me  ?  You  do  not  know  all  you  were  to  me, 
Silvia;  you  were  sweet  and  refreshing  as  a  wild  wood- 
land flower  among  warm  exotics.  I  used  to  enjoy  your 
society  as  I  did  the  fresh  breeze  blowing  over  the  heath- 
er, and  now  you  shun  me,  you  avoid  me,  you  even  turn 
your  face  from  me  lest  I  should  see  it !  Why  is  it,  Silvia  ? 
What  have  I  done  ?  " 

The  pale  lips  quivered,  the  lines  of  anguish  round 
them  deepened. 

"  You  have  done  nothing,  Lady  Clotilde,"  repeated 
the  faint  voice.  "  What  could  yon  do  ? " 

"  There  is  no  effect  without  a  cause,"  said  Lady  Dyne- 
court;  "if  I  have  done  nothing,  why  have  you  changed 
eo  completely  to  me  ? " 

"  I  am  very  unhappy,"  said  Silvia,  making  a  great 
offort  to  control  herself  and  speak  calmly.  "  I  am  the 
most  unhappy  creature,  I  believe,  living  at  this  moment 
in  the  world ;  and  my  unhappmess  has  changed  me,  Lady 
Clotilde.  I  am  changed  toward  my  own  self.  Pray, 
pray  forgive  me  if  I  have  seemed  changed  to  you  ;  I 
nave  not  meant  it.  I  owe  you  nothing  but  affection  and 
reverence — nothing  can  change  that." 

"  But,  Silvia,  unhappiness  need  not  make  you  shnn  me. 
[  know  all  your  story ;  you  have  no  secrets  from  me. 
Why  not  trust  me,  and  if  anything  has  happened,  tell 
me?" 


THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD.  305 

She  did  not  understand  the  almost  convulsive  shudder 
that  made  the  delicate  figure  at  her  side  tremble. 

"I  am  hurt,  Silvia."  she  continued,  after  a  time.  "It 
is  so  seldom  that  I  love  any  one  as  I  love  you.  I  am 
cruelly  disappointed." 

And  the  kind  face  grew  sad,  the  kind  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  it  was  hard  to  bear.  Yet,  if  she  suffered  now,  what 
would  her  suffering  be  should  she  obtain  one  glimpse  of 
the  truth?  Better  by  far  that  Lady  Clotilde  should  think 
her  cold,  capricious,  mean,  changeable,  unkind — anything 
rather  than  that  she  should  know  the  truth;  for  Silvia 
was  still  undecided  as  to  what  course  it  would  be  right 
for  her  to  adopt. 

"  I  have  promised  you,"  continued  Lady  Dynecourt, 
"  my  friendship  while  I  live  ;  1  have  given  that  to  few. 
I  promised  you  that  my  husband's  interest  should  be 
used  for  your  son  to  advance  his  career." 

She  paused  abruptly,  for  Silvia  had  laid  her  hand  on 
her  arm. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  hush!  "  she  said,  in  a  low  voice 
so  full  of  anguished  entreaty  that  Lady  Clotilde  was 
startled.  "Hush!"  she  repeated;  I  cannot  endure 
another  word." 

"  There  is  nothing  wrong  over  Cyril,  is  there?  "  asked 
Lady  Clotilde,  quickly. 

"  No ;  but  I  cannot  bear  another  word.  I  am  very 
unhappy,  Lady  Dynecourt ;  be  kind  to  me,  and  take  rne 
home." 

One  look  at  the  white  face,  with  its  expression  of 
deep  anguish,  influenced  Lady  Clotilde  to  promtly  granf 
Silvia's  earnest  prayer. 

"  Back  to  Mrs.  Greville's,"  she  said,  briefly,  to  t!» 
coachman,  more  hurt,  more  puzzled,  than  she  had  eve. 
been. 

Lady  Dynecourt  said  no  more,  and  they  drove  home 
in  silence.  She  had  intended  to  tell  Silvia  that  Lord 
Dynecourt  would  be  at  Mrs.  Greville's,  but  she  was 
too  unhappy  even  to  remember  that.  Only,  as  they  drew 
near  the  house,  she  took  Silvia's  cold  hand  for  a  minute 
in  hers. 

"  Silvia,"   she  said,  gently,    "  if  ever  the  time  come," 


306  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

when  you  repent  having  thrown  away  and  wounded  a 
good  friend,  yon  will  only  have  to  seek  me.  I  promise 
yon  that  you  Shall  find  me  again,  and  all  this  shall  be 
forgotten." 

Tears  rained  down  Silvia's  white  face,  but  she  made  no 
reply.  What  could  she  eay  ?  "What  pretext  had  she  to 
offer  ?  She  must  either  tell  the  whole  truth,  or  let  Lady 
r/lotilde  think  of  her  as  she  would. 

They  re-entered  the  house  in  total  silence,  Lady  Dyne- 
conrt  more  hurt  than  she  cared  to  acknowledge  even  to 
herself.  She  went  to  the  drawing-room,  expecting  to  find 
Mrs.  Greville  and  Lord  Dyncconrt.  Silvia  went  upstairs, 
where,  throwing  off  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  she  wept  for 
some  minutes  with  a  violence  of  emotion  that  frightened 
even  herself.  Nothing  had  ever  been  so  hard  for  her  as 
this  trying  to  harden  her  heart  against  the  gentle,  kindly 
lady,  who  had  never  done  anything  but  lavish  benefits 
upon  her. 

"  It  -was  nard,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  bitterly  hard. 
Oh  !  if  she  knew  the  truth  !  " 

She  waited  some  moments  in  her  own  room,  then, 
thinking  the  visitors  would  be  gone,  she  went  down-stairs 
to  finish  Mrs.  Greville's  letters. 

As  she  went  down  the  grand  staircase,  she  said  to  her- 
self : 

"I  must  go  away  from  here  until  I  know  what  is  best 
for  me  to  do.  I  could  not  bear  another  scene  like  this 
morning's." 

She  paused  one  half-minute  at  the  drawing-room  door. 
She  heard  several  voices  talking  and  laughing,  and  so 
concluded  Mrs.  Greville  was  still  engaged. 

"I  will  finish  the  letters  first,"  she" thought.  "I  can 
.-peak  to  her  afterward." 

It  so  happened  that  while  Lord  Dynecourt  was  what 
he  called  "paying  his  court"  to  the  brilliant  widow,  he 
had  suddenly  remembered  an  important  letter  that  he 
had  promised  to  send,  and  had  completely  forgotten.  It 
had  reference  to  a  speech  that  was  to  be  made  that  even- 
ing in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  was  of  the  highest  import- 
ance. The  sudden  change  in  his  face  and  voice  told  Mrs. 


THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD.  307 

Greville  that  he  was  not  quite  at  ease.     He  explained  to 
her  what  it  was. 

"Go  to  the  library,"  she  said  ;  "you  will  find  all  you 
require  there." 

He  bade  her  adieu,  knowing  that  he  should  not  have 
time  to  return  to  the  drawing-room  again. 

"How  long  shall  you  be  writing  that  letter,  Basil?" 
isked  Lady  Clotilde. 

"  Not  more  than  ten  minutes,"  he  replied. 
"Then  I  will  come  to  the  library  to  you,"  said  Lady 
Dynecourt,  "and  we  will  drive  home  together." 

"  That  will  suit  my  arrangements  exactly,"  he  replied  ; 
and,  all  unconscious  of  the  web  closing  around  him,  he 
left  the  drawing-room  with  a  smile  on  his  face,  and  gay, 
complimentary  words  on  his  lips. 

He  sat  down  to  the  library  table,  and  was  soon  busily 
engaged  with  his  letter. 

He  did  not  hear  the  light  footsteps  that  descended  the 
stairs,  or  the  gentle  touch  at  the  handle  of  the  door;  no 
shadow  fell  between  him  and  the  sunshine. 

He  heard  and  saw  nothing,  until  a  low  gasping  sound, 
that  was  neither  sigh  nor  moan,  yet  was  like  both, 
startled  him,  and  he  looked. up. 

Looked  up  to  see  standing  there,  with  a  white  face 
and  eyes  full  of  unutterable  anguish,  with  quivering  lips, 
and  clasped,  rigid  hands — the  girl  he  had  left  long  years 
ago;  the  girl  whose  beautiful  face  he  had  kissed,  with 
falsehood  in  his  heart,  and  falsehood  on  his  lips;  the  girl 
he  had  wooed,  won,  and  deserted  ! 

He  had  seen  her  last  in  that  pretty  cottage  home,  and 
had  left  her,  knowing  that  he  was  about  to  break  her 
heart!  and — once  more  the  betrayer  and  the  betrayed, 
the  victim  and  the  victimizer,  met  again ! 


308  THROWN    ON    THE    WOKLD. 


CHAPTER  LXX. 

AN    UNEXPECTED  WITNESS. 

Nor  one  word  did  Lord  Dynecourt  utter  as  his  aston- 
ished gaze  lingered  on  the  beautiful,  shrinking,  sorrowful 
figure.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his  senses  \\<Te  playing 
him  false.  His  thoughts  had  been  so  entirely  occupied 
with  his  letter  that  it  seemed  to  him  like  an  apparition  ; 
so  for  some  minutes  they  remained  in  perfect  silence, 
spell  bound,  as  it  were,  the  silence  between  them  growing 
every  minute  more  terrible.  Then  Lord  Dynecourt  rose 
slowly  from  his  seat. 

"  Silvia,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  frightened  tone,  "  is  that 
you  ?  Speak  to  me,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  " 

But  he  might  just  as  well  have  told  the  tide  to  flow 
when  it  should  ebb.  All  power  of  speech  had  gone  from 
her.  She  leaned  against  the  wall  like  one  whose  strength 
was  spent. 

"  Silvia,"  he  repeated,  gently,  going  up  to  her  and 
holding  out  his  hand,  "  if  you  could  only  tell  how  reliev- 
ed I  am  to  see  you  again." 

She  had  gone  through  this  meeting  in  fancy  a  thousand 
times.  She  had  pictured  herself  speaking  to  him  with  all 
the  dignity  of  outraged  virtue,  with  all  the  severity  of 
wounded  love ;  but  now  that  the  moment  had  come, 
woman-like  she  forgot  everything  save  that  f-lio  had  loved 
him.  She  saw  his  eyes  bent  upon  INT  v.ith  the  old. 
familiar,  loving  glance,  and  she  clasped  her  hands,  cry 
ing: 

"Oh,  Ulric  !  Ulric !  how  could  you?  Do  not  tone'. 
me  !  How  could  you  leave  me  so  ?  " 

The  lovely  face,  the  sad  voice,  with  its  passionate  cry, 
the  raining  tears,  the  simple  words  touched  him  more 
deeply  than  anything  had  ever  done  bei'oiv. 

"  Was  it  such  a  trouble  to  you,  Silvia,  my  going?  In 
all  these  years  have  you  never  forgotten  me  '. '' 

"  Forgotten  you !  "  she   repeated,  and    her   voice  was 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  309 

fike  the  sweetest,  saddest  music.  "  Forgotten  you  —  my 
husband  and  Cyril's  father  !  " 

For  one  half  minute  a  most  uncomfortable  expression 
came  over  his  face.  They  were  both  too  deeply  engrossed 
to  hear  the  rustle  of  Lady  Clotilde's  dress ;  the  ten  min- 
utes had  expired,  and  she  had  come  to  seek  her  husband. 
The  sound  of  Silvia's  voice  arrested  her  —  arrested  her 
footsteps,  stopped  the  beating  of  her  heart,  froze  the 
blood  in  her  veins,  rooted  her  to  the  spot  where  she  stood 
— paralized  her  with  horror  and  amaze. 

Silvia  and  her  husband,  Lord  Dynec^urt — Silvia,  speak- 
ing to  him  with  a  voice  full  of  anguish — speaking  to  him 
of  Cyril  I 

Oh,  Heaven  !   what  did  it  mean  ? 

Suddenly  with  a  sharp  pain  no  word  can  describe,  she 
remembered  that  once — how  long  was  it  since — he  had 
called  her  Silvia,  and  when  she  half  jealously  asked  him 
the  reason  why,  he  had  told  her  some  idle  story  about  a 
book  that  he  was  reading. 

Silvia  !  Could  it  be  that  Silvia  of  whom  he  was  speak- 
ing? Could  it  be  possible  ?  Then  she  stopped  short  and 
flung  the  thought  indignantly  from  her.  Her  husband 
the  man  who  had  betrayed  Silvia  —  her  beloved  Basil ! 
Ah,  no !  perish  the  horrible  notion.  Yet,  what  was 
going  on  in  that  room?  What  terrible  words  was  she 
listening  to  ? 

"  Do  you  know,"  Silvia  was  saying,  "  that  since  you 
deserted  me — since  you  went  away  and  left  me —  [  have 
discovered  that  our  marriage  was  legal  and  valid  ? " 

He  recoiled  as  though  she  had  struck  him  a  sudden 
blow. 

"  Legal  and  valid !  "  he  repeated.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ? " 

"  I  mean,"  she  cried,  indignantly,  "  that  you  over- 
reached yourself !  You  intended  to  deceive  me,  and  you 
deceived  yourself.  You  intended  to  cheat  me  ;  you  cheat- 
ed yourself,  and  the  hapless,  helpless  lady  who  bears  you. 
name !  " 

He  drew  a  step  nearer  to  her. 

"  Hush  !  "  he  said.  "  For  Heaven's  sakj,  mind  what 
you  are  saying." 


310  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

"  I  know  perfectly  well  what  I  am  saying,  and  I  repeat 
it — our  marriage  was  perfectly  valid  and  legal !  I  have 
had  the  first  and  best  opinion  in  England  upon  it.  I 
know  that  any  day  I  choose  to  claim  your  name  for  my- 
self and  my  child,  it  is  mine.  It  is  your  second  marriage 
with  the  unhappy,  noble  lady  who  believes  herself  your 
•wife  that  is  not  legal." 

"  I  cannot  believe  it,"   he  replied,  in  a  hoarse  voice. 

"  Nevertheless  it  is  perfectly  true.  I  do  not  ask  you  to 
take  my  word  ;  take  what  advice  you  will.  Yon  are  not 
the  first  my  lord,  who,  having  laid  a  trap  for  his  neigh- 
bor, has  fallen  into  it  himself.  You  thought,  on  that  fair 
summer  day  when  you  stopped  at  the  old  Scotch  manse 
and  went  through  what  you  believed  to  be  the  mockery 
of  a  marriage  with  me,  that  you  had  lured  me,  duped  me, 
deceived  me —  that  you  had  made  me  your  victim  My 
lord,  you  deceived  yourself;  you  were  the  victim  of  your 
own  sin  and  I  escaped.  That  marriage  was  perfectly 
legal — perfectly  in  accordance  with  the  Scotch  law,  and 
by  it  I  am  your  lawful  wife." 

She  spoke  with  such  simple,  queen -like  dignity,  he  waa 
bewildered.  Though  the  interests  he  had  at  stake  were 
so  great,  he  could  not  refrain,  even  then,  from  showing 
his  light,  frivolous  nature.  Her  dignity,  her  beauty, 
struck  him  with  amaze;  this  delicate,  queen -like  grace 
and  loveliness,  this  refinement  of  word  and  manner,  was 
BO  different  to  the  healthy  young  beauty  he  had  married, 
that  he  could  hardly  believe  his  senses. 

"  Silvia,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "  how  you  have  changed  ; 
how  altered  you  are ;  how  beautiful  and  graceful  you 
have  grown !  " 

"  Are  you  not  ashamed  to  speak  to  me  in  that 
fashion  ?  "  she  cried,  indignantly.  "  It  is  not  of  my 
beauty,  but  of  my  honor  and  fair  name,  my  son's  birth- 
right, we  are  speaking." 

He  recoiled  again 

"  Your  son's  birthright!  "  he  repeated,  slowly,  as 
though  a  new  and  bewildering  idea  were  breaking  upon 
him.  "  Those  words  have  a  strange  sound,  Silvia." 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  continued,  with  increased  energy 
— <k  do  you  know,  can  you  estimate  the  ruin  you  have 


THBOW1T   ON   THS   WOELD.  311 

wrought  around  you  ?  Do  you  know  the  fate  of  the 
noble  lady  you  have  married,  if  I  urge  my  claim  ?  Have 
you  thought  of  the  unmerited  shame  and  disgrace  that 
would  fall  upon  her?  " 

"  I  have  never  thought  of  it,"  he  replied,  "  simply 
because  I  never  believed  in  my  marriage  with  you." 

k'  You.  dare  to  avow  it  2 "  she  cried,  her  whole  frame 
re  nbling  with  anger. 

••  Silvia,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "  is  it  possible  that  you 
;ire  the  beautiful  protegee  of  whom  Lady  Clotilde  lias 
b  sen  talking  to  m.3  for  weeks  past  2  Are  you  living  with 
Mrs.  Q-reviile  as  companion  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  ;  "  and  since  I  have  known  the 
truth,  Lady  Glotilde's  kindness  has  almost  killed  me." 

"  And  can  it  be  possible,"  he  continued,  in  a  tone  of 
atter  amazement,  "  that  the  boy  for  whom  she  has  been 
asking  my  interest,  is  your  son  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied ;  "  the  same  cliild  whom  you  left, 
years  ago,  to  the  mercies  of  a  cruel  world." 

"  Of  all  strange  freaks  that  fortune  ever  played,  this  is 
the  strangest,"  ha  said,  musingly.  "  Why,  Silvia,  I  have 
had  England  searched  for  you,  I  have  neglected  no 
means  of  finding  you,  and  you  have  been  near  to  me  all 
the  time:  you  have  even  been  to  my  house  and  —  ah! 
why,  you  were  taken  ill  there !  " 

"  Yes;  my  illness  was  caused  by  my  fear  in  recogniz- 
ing you ;  the  shock  has  almost  killed  me." 

"  And  you  have  known  me  since  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  shrinking  from  the  love  and 
admiration  in  his  face. 

u  Yet  you  have  not  denounced  me,  Silvia?  " 

"  No.     Ef  night  and    by  day  I  have  been  trying   to 
think  what 'it  was  right   for  me  to  do,  and  1  could  not 
decide.     Lady  Clotilda  is  unequalod  for  goodness,  beauty, 
grace,  and  truo  nobility.    I  lovo  her  so  dearly  that,  if  she 
needed  it,  I  could  lay  down  my  life  for  her.     How  could 
I  decide  hurriedly  on  anything  that  could  injure  her— 
the  truest,  sweetest  heart  that  beats?     If  I  were  alone  u 
the  world,    I    would   have    preferred   death   to  brin-u 
sorrow    upon    her.      My  heart   has   been   torn   bet-, 
loving  pity  for  her  and  anxiety  fur  my  son.' 


312  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  But,  Silvia,  it  cannot  be  possible  that  this  story  of 
yours  is  true  ?  " 

"  It  is  true  as  that  the  sun  shines  in  the  bright,  heavens. 
You  shall  prove  for  yourself." 

"I  am  bewildered,"  he  said.  "  I  never  thought  of  it. 
I  own  the  truth  to  you,  frankly,  Silvia — I  had  no  inten- 
tion of  marrying  you.  I  intended  to  deceive  you ;  but 
you  were  so  good  and  so  innocent,  I  had  no  other 
resource  than  this." 

"I  believed  in  it,"  she  replied;  "and  as  for  the 
validity  of  the  marriage,  you  will  find  it  quite  sufficient." 

"  Yerily,  the  vices  of  our  youth  make  lashes  to  scourge 
us  with  ! "  said  Lord  Dynecourt  to  himself. 

"  I  have  spared  you,"  continued  Silvia,  "  for  Lady 
Clotilde's  sake.  For  her  sake  I  shall  pause  yet." 

But  the  words  died  on  lujr  lips.  A  hand  was  laid  on 
her  arm.  Lady  Clotilde's  f;ice,  white  and  haggard  with 
horror  was  looking  into  her  own. 

"  Will  yon  tell  me,"  she  paid,  hoarsely,  "  what  this 
means?  Basil — Silvia — am  1  mad,  or  are  you? 

And  the  two,  who  would  luive  shielded  her  from  the 
full  horror  of  the  truth,  looked  at  each  other  in  unutter- 
able dismay. 

"  Tell  me!  "  she  repeated.  •'  I  have  only  half  under- 
stood, and  I  must  know." 

Yet  still  they  looked  at  each  other,  not  knowing  what 
to  say. 


THEOWN    ON   THE   WOBLD.  313 


CHAPTER  LXXI. 

KA    MAN    CAN    HAVE    BUT    ONE    WIFE!  " 

LORD  DYNECOURT  was  the  first  to  recover  himself; 
Silvia  shrunk  with  horror  and  dismay;  he  went  up  to 
Lady  Dyneeourt. 

"  My  dear  Olotilde,"  he  said,  in  a  constrained,  embar- 
rassed voice,  "  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  should  have 
overheard  this  discussion  ;  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were 
near.  Pray  let  me  call  the  carriage  for  you." 

But  she  waved  him  away  with  the  gesture  of  a  queen. 

"  Nay,  hear  me,"  he  continued.  "  Perhaps  to  your 
pure  ears  I  should  not  plead  a  boyish  imprudence ;  but  it 
was  nothing  more — a  boyish  infatuation— 

"  Hush!  "  she  said,  calmly.  "  Silvia,  answer  me  one 
question — •  only  on^.  Is  Lord  Dyneeourt  the  man  who 
took  you  to  Scotland  — who  went  through  the  ceremony 
of  marriage  with  you — whom  you  believed  to  be  your 
husband?  " 

Her  lipa  quivered  as  she  uttered  the  word.  She  looked 
earnestly  at  Silvia,  but  she  made  no  reply ;  she  could  not 
utter  the  syllable  that  was  to  bring  such  ruin  on  the  head 
of  the  noble  and  gentle  lady  who,  like  herself,  had  been 
so  cruelly  deceived. 

Lady  Clotilde  went  up  to  the  shrinking  figure;  she 
kid  her  hand  again  on  Silvia's  arm. 

"  I  understand  your  generous  silence,"  she  said.  "  You 
would  fain  spare  me  if  you  could.  Silvia,  remember  all 
I  said  to  you  when  we  talked  over  your  story ;  I  repeat  it 
now.  Better  any  torture  than  the  anguish  of  being  de- 
ceived. Answer  me  truly  —  Is  Lord  Dyneeourt  the 
man  ?  " 

It  was  a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten.  Lord  Dyneeourt, 
who  had  by  his  sin  brought  this  terrible  trouble  on  two 
innocent  women,  stood  with  a  flush  of  guilt  on  his  hand- 
some face,  his  eyes  bent  on  the  ground,  the  picture  of 
guilty  confusion,  of  shame,  of  embarrassment.  He  would 


314  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

have  given  the  whole  world  to  have  ended  an  interview 
BO  terrible  in  itself,  bnt  could  not. 

Lady  Clotilde  —  perhaps  the  most  deeply  injured  and 
most  deeply  wronged — stood  calm,  proud,  and  dignified  ; 
all  the  self-control  that  comes  from  high-breeding,  from 
perfect  training,  was  hers.  She  concealed  the  anguish 
that  tortured  her;  she  stood  with  calm,  proud  eyes,  her 
face  wrhite  to  the  very  lips,  waiting  the  answer  that  did 
not  come. 

"  Silvia,"  she  said,  gently,  "  do  you  not  understand 
that  your  silence,  which  means  your  pity,  is  more  insult- 
ing, more  degrading  to  ir.e  than  any  acknowledgement  of 
the  truth  could  possibly  be?  Answer  my  question  —  Is 
Lord  Dynecourt  the  man  ?" 

Then  Silvia,  weeping,  fell  on  her  knees  and  clasped 
Lady  Clotilde's  dress. 

"  Spare  me ! "  she  sobbed.  "  It  would  be  easier  far 
for  me  to  die  than  to  hurt  you." 

"  Then  I  am  quite  answered,  Silvia,"  said  Lady  Clo- 
tilde, with  a  quiet  kind  of  despair  that  still  left  her 
dignity  untouched.  "  I  had  some  faint  hope  that  my 
senses  had  deceived  me,  that  my  ears  had  played  me 
false ;  that  hope  is  over.  Your  silence  tells  me  even  more 
than  your  words  could  have  done." 

Silvia  looked  up  into  the  beautiful,  mournful  face. 
Ah!  indeed  it  would  have  been  easier,  twenty  times, 
to  have  branded  the  white  brow  with  a  scorching  iron,  to 
have  plunged  a  keen  dagger  into  the  gentle  breast,  than 
to  have  told  her  how  false,  how  untrue,  how  utterly 
(dishonorable  the  man  she  loved  was. 

Perhaps  Silvia's  silence  shamed  him,  for  Lord  Dyne- 
court  moved  uneasily,  and  then,  drawing  nearer,  said: 

"  Clotilde,  it  will  save  both  time  and  trouble,  if  I  avow 
to  you  frankly  that  1  am  the  man.  It  was  a  boyish  indis- 
cretion— nothing  more,  upon  my  honor." 

"  Your  honor!  "  she  repeated,  calmly  ;  "  the  honor  of 
a  man  who  has  twice  perjured  himself.  Leave  that  word 
out  of  the  discussion,  my  lord." 

"  Do  not  bo  too  severe.  Clotilde.  T  know  how  uncom- 
promising and  stern  is  the  virtue  of  a  virtuous  woman  ; 
but  remember,  the  greatest '  sinner  may  ask  for  mercy.'  ' 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD.  315 

/    Her  face  softened   at    the  words,  but  grew  cold  and 
grave  as  he  continued  : 

"  I  repeat,  it  was  but  a  boyish  indiscretion.  You  must 
not  judge  me  too  hardly." 

Her  clear,  proud  eyes  met  his  without  shrinking. 
'  You  met  this  girl  when  she  was  beautiful,  young,  and 
innocent?  "  she  said.     "  Answer  me  —  " 
"  I  did,"  he  replied. 

'  You  loved  her ;  you  won  her  love ;  you  won  her 
whole  heart ;  and,  seeing  that  she  was  good  as  she  was 
beautiful,  you  asked  her  to  be  your  wife?  Answer 
me !  "  she  repeated,  for  his  face  flushed  and  his  head 
drooped. 

"  I  did,"  he  murmured. 

"  She  consented,  believing  in  you  as  she  believes  in 
Heaven ;  sho  went  away  with  you  —  leaving  mother, 
home,  and  friends  —  sure  that  she  was  safe  with  you  as 
with  an  a-ngel  ? " 

"It  was  so,"  said  Lord  Dynecourt. 

"You  took  her  to  Scotland;  married  her;  gave  her 
every  reason  to  believe  that  she  was  your  lawful  w'fe  — 
until  you  tired  of  her?  " 

He  bowed  his  head.     "Words  failed  him  this  time. 

Then  Lady  Clotilde  raised  her  hand  solemnly. 

"  And  I  say  to  you,  Basil  Dynecourt,  that  she  is  your 
wife,  your  legal,  lawful  wife,  before  man  and  God.  Jam 
the  one  who  has  been  deceived.  When  she,  little  know- 
ing who  I  was,  first  told  me  her  story,  I  assured  her  then 
that  she  was  married.  I  have  never  changed  my  opinion. 
Your  lawful  wife  stands  there,  my  lord.  I  have  only 
been  your  dupe." 

He  drew  nearer  to  her,  but  she  shrunk  from  him. 

"  No,"  she  said  ;  "  all  is  over  between  us,  Basil  Dyne- 
court.  I  take  no  woman's  place  save  my  own." 

"  Clotilde !     Have  you  no  love  left  for  me  ? "  he  cried. 

"  No,  my  lord,  none.  My  love  \vas  slain  when  my 
respect  and  esteem  died." 

"  Then  never  was  man  so  cruelly  punished,"  he  cried, 
with  quivering  lips. 

"  There  never  was  a  man  so  deserving  of  punishment," 
she  replied.  "  Do  not  be  afraid,  Lord  Dynecourt;  we 


316  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

will  keep  up  appearances.  You  are  thinking  what  the 
world  will  say;  it  shall  say  nothing;  it  shall  know  noth- 
ing— not  yet,  at  least.  I  will  return  to  Dynewold  House 
with  you,  and  from  there  we  will  go  together  to  my 
mother,  Lady  Yoyse,  who  will  make  all  needful  prepara- 
tions for  receiving  me." 

"  Clotilde,  you  cannot  be  so  unjust  as  to  condemn  me 
unheard — without  hearing  one  word ;  hear  my  defence. 
Hear,  at  least,  the  opinion  of  my  lawyers  and  counsel." 

"  There  is  no  need,"  she  replied.  ''  I  know  the  laws 
of  God  ;  that  is  sufficent  for  me.  I  do  not  heed  the  laws 
of  man." 

"  But  you  are  unjust  to  me,"  he  cried  ;  "  you  are  cruel 
to  me.  You  take  her  word  against  mine.  Is  that  fair?  " 

"  I  have  done  nothing  of  the  kind,"  she  replied,  calm- 
ly. "  I  have  judged  and  condemned  you  out  of  your  own 
lips,  and  from,  her  words.  You  made  her  your  wife,  as 
she  thought  and  believed,  as  was  really  the  case,  years 
ago.  Yon  shall  abide  by  that  action  now." 

Then  she  turned  to  the  weeping  girl  who  clung  to  her. 
She  tried  to  raise  her,  to  still  the  passionate  weeping,  to 
check  the  bitter  tears. 

"  Silvia,"  she  said,  gently,  "  you  are  my  sister  in  mis- 
fortune ;  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  weep  so  bitterly. 
You  have  not  wronged  me;  you  merit  nothing  from  me 
but  my  blessings  and  prayers.  You  are  to  be  pitied  just 
as  much  as  I  am  myself.  You  are  Lord  Dynecourt'g 
lawful  wife,  and  your  little  son  his  lawful  heir." 

A  spasm  of  pain  passed  over  her  face  at  the  words,  bat 
she  controlled  herself  quickly. 

"  You  must  always  remember,"  she  continued,  laying 
her  hand  on  the  bowed  head,  "that  there  is  not  in  my 
whole  heart  and  soul  one  unkind  thought  of  you.  You 
will  bear  the  name  I  have  borne ;  you  will  take  my 
place ;  but,  with  all,  you  will  take  my  affection  and 
esteem." 

Nothing  could  still  that  terrible  weeping.  Silvia  had 
no  words.  Lord  Dynecourt's  lace  had  grown  pale  as 
death. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Clotilde,"  he  cried,  pleadingly, 
"  do  not  talk  in  that  strain,  unless  you  waiit  to  kill  me." 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  317 

But  she  turned  her  calm,  proud  face  to  him. 

"  My  lord,''  she  said,  "  will  you  remember  that,  except 
BO  far  as  keeping  up  appearances  goes,  we  are  strangers." 

Then  Silvia  clasped  those  cold  hands  and  covered  them 
with  passionate  tears  and  kisses. 

"  Lady  Clotilde."  she  said,  "  let  me  go  away ;  let  me 
go  and  hide  myself  from  the  whole  world  ;  I  cannot  bear 
that  you  should  suffer  for  my  folly.  I  am  nobody  — 
obscure,  unknown.  I  have  no  proud,  loving  parents;  I 
have  no  position ;  the  world  is  nothing  to  me.  You  are 
one  of  its  queens.  Stay  in  the  place  you  fill  so  well.  Oh, 
if  I  were  but  dead  !  If  I  had  but  died  a  thousand  times 
over  before  bringing  this  sorrow  upon  you!  " 

Lady  Clotilde  looked  down  on  the  weeping,  agitated 
girl. 

"  Silvia,  all  such  pleading  to  me  is  utterly  vain.  You 
know  my  sentiments ;  nothing  can  alter  them.  A  man 
can  have  but  one  wife ;  you  are  Lord  Dynecourt's." 

What  other  words  she  intended  were  never  uttered. 
A  servant  announced  the  carriage.  Silvia  turned  aside 
her  flushed  face,  lest  the  trace  of  tears  should  be  seen. 
Lady  Clotilde,  calm  with  the  proud  calm  of  despair, 
merely  said : 

"  I  will  write  to  you  when  I  have  decided  what  course 
to  adopt.  In  the  meantime  remain  quietly  here." 


318  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD, 


CHAPTER  LXXII. 

"  SHE   18    THE   MOTHER    OF   YOUR   CHILD." 

THAT  drive  through  the  crowded  streets,  thronged  by 
bright,  busy,  happy,  active  faces,  M'as  like  the  phantasm 
of  a  dream  to  Lady  Clotilde  and  the  silent,  unhappy  man 
at  her  side.  Houses,  trees,  the  smiling  heavens,  the 
shining  sun,  the  whispering  wind,  all  confused  her.  It 
•was  a  hideous  nightmare,  from  which  she  was  never 
more  to  awaken. 

It  was  more  like  a  dream  than  a  reality;  not  even  to 
herself  had  she  realized  quite  all  that  had  happened.  A 
dull  horror  seemed  to  pervade  her.  She  tried  to  say  to 
herself  that  the  man  by  her  side  was  not  her  husband — 
that  her  marriage,  whatever  it  misrht  be  in  the  eyes  of 
man,  was,  before  Heaven,  a  mockery  and  a  cheat  —  that 
neither  birth,  connections,  hi^h  rank,  nor  anything  else, 
had  been  powerful  enough  to  save  her  from  the  most  cruel 
fate  that  could  befall  a  woman. 

He  spoke  to  her  once,  and  once  only ;  but  something 
in  her  face  frightened  him. 

"  Clotilde,"  lie  cried,  "  I  wish  that  I  were  dead !  " 

The  sad,  stern  eyes,  raised  for  one  half-moment  to  his 
said,  "  Life  held  agony  far  more  terrible  than  death." 
Then  Dynewold  House  was  reached,  and  the  carriage 
stopped.  She  waved  from  her,  with  an  air  of  superb 
indifference,  the  outstretched  hand  that  would  have  aided 
her,  and  entered  the  houso  alone.  It  was  rather  a  relief 
than  otherwise  to  the  earl  to  be  a  few  minutes  alone.  He 
did  not  blame  himself —he  did  not  feel  sorry  that  his 
own  sin  and  folly  had  brought  him  to  that  pass;  he 
merely  cursed  his  fate  in  no  very  measured  terms. 

"  Was  there  ever  a  man  in  sucli  a  fix?  "  he  thought; 
"  was  there  ever  such  a  fate?  Was  there  ever  such  a 
mischance  known  as  the  meeting  of  these  two  women  ? 
To  think  that,  though  the  world  is  so  large  —  that  they 
two,  above  all  others^  should  meet — should  know  and  like 


THEOWN  ON  THE  WOKLD.  319 

each  other!  It  is  enough  to  make  any  man  wish  that 
there  were  no  women;  nothing  but  sorrow  comes  of 
knowing  them." 

He  trembled  as  he  followed  her  into  the  house.  It 
was  one  thing  to  betray,  to  work  the  ruin  of  a  poor, 
unknown  country  girl  — it  was  quite  another  to  have 
made  a  terrible  mistake,  and  to  let  the  consequences  of  it 
fall  upon  a  high-born  lady,  whose  cause  the  world  would 
be  sure  to  espouse  with  open  arms. 
^  "  The  worst  of  it  is,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  Clo- 
tilde_has  such  a  sentimental,  high  flown,  what  she  calls 
religious  way  of  looking  at  things,  that,  if  she  really  gets 
this  fixed  in  her  mind,  nothing  will  prevent  her  making 
a  grand  exposure,  and  I  shall  be  the  laughing-stock  of  all 
London;  there  could  not  be  a  more  ridiculous  situation 
for  any  man." 

"  My  lady  wishes  to  see  you  in  the  library,  my  lord ; 
she  is  waiting  there,"  said  a  servant,  who  had  noted  with 
surprise  the  changed  face  of  his  mistress. 

"  And  if  there  is  nothing  wrong  there,"  added  John 
to  himself,  "  I  will  never  pretend  to  understand  domestic 
affairs  again." 

When  Lord  Dynecourt  entered  the  library  with  a 
shrinking  heart,  Lady  Clotilde  stood  at  the  window.  He 
was  almost  startled  by  the  awful  change  in  her  face  as 
she  turned  to  him. 

It  was  blanched  with  pain,  drawn  with  anguish ;  deep 
lines  showed  where  no  lines  had  appeared  before;  the 
eyes  had  in  them  a  shadow  that  was  never  to  be  removed. 

He  went  up  to  her  impulsively.  He  had  loved  Silvia 
with  a  love  that  was  born  entirely  of  her  beauty,  her 
tenderness,  her  impassioned  devotion  and  affection  for 
himself,  he  loved  Lady  Clotilde  in  a  less  degree,  but  it 
was  with  a  love  born  of  respect  and  esteem  for  her 
virtues — of  admiration  for  her  high  and  noble  qualities ; 
and  it  was  mixed  with  a  certain  kind  of  fear  and  awe  of 
her  opinion. 

He  forgot  this  awe  when  he  saw  her  blanched  face; 
he  held  out  his  arms  to  her,  only  remembering  that  she 
was  his  wife— the  woman  who  bore  his  name. 


320  THROWN   ON    THE    WORLD. 

"  Clotilde !  "  he  cried ;  but  she  shrank  as  though  he 
had  stabbed  her. 

**  You  forget,"  she  said ;  "  we  are  strangers." 

"  Do  not  say  such  things,  Clotilde.  You  must  not  run 
G&  with  this  most  foolish  notion  ;  you  must  listen  to 
reason.  You  cannot  in  justice  condemn  me  unheard." 

"  It  is  because  I  love  justice  that  I  condemn  you,"  she 
replied. 

"  I  have  avowed  to  you  frankly  my  indiscretion  —  it 
was  hardly  a  crime.  Silvia  was  very  lovely,  and  /  was 
very  young." 

"  Hush!  "  she  said.  "Can  you  not  imagine  what  it 
costs  me  to  hear  such  words?  Spare  me  all  further 
pain." 

"  But  you  must  listen  ;  how  else  am  I  to  make  you 
understand  ?  How  many  hundreds,  I  may  say  thousands 
of  young  men  besides  myself  have  done  the  same  thing? 
and  afterward,  when  they  reform  and  marry,  their  wives 
would  not  dream  of  resenting  what  happened  before 
marriage." 

"  Do  not  tell  me  of  other  women,"  she  said ;  "  I  have 
no  desire  to  know.  My  own  conscience  tells  me  enough. 
I  shall  listen  to  its  dictates.  All  false  reasoning,  all 
sophistry,  all  weak  excuses,  fall  into  insignificance  before 
eternal  truth.  You  married  Silvia,  and  Silvia  alone  is 
jour  wife." 

"  I  can  only  think  by  your  persisting  in  this  that  you 
have  never  loved  me,  Clotilde." 

"  You  know  that  is  false.  I  have  loved  you  very 
dearJy  with  all  my  heart,  and  in  all  my  life  I  have 
known  no  other  love." 

"  Then  why  be  BO  cruel  ?  " 

"Justice  is  not  cruelty;  right  is  not  cruelty.  The 
consequences  of  sin  must  fall  somewhere  ;  if  they  fall  on 
me,  I  will  bear  them.  Say  what  you  will,  Basil,  but 
never  say  again  that  I  have  not  loved  you.  If  I  had  not 
loved  you,  why  should  my  heart  be  broken  now?  " 

"  Is  your  heart  broken.  Clotilde  ?  " 

"  Yes,  surely  as  my  lips  are  speaking.  The  life  of  my 
body  may  linger  on  as  long  as  Heaven  skall  please,  but 
but  the  life  of  my  heart  is  ended  forever." 


THROWN   ON   THE   WORLD.  321 

"If  you  would  but  listen  to  me  — if  you  could  hut 
forgive  me  —  if  you  would  but  believe  in  the  depths  of 
my  sorrow!  Oh,  Clotilde,  we  might  begin  life  over 
again  and  be  so  happy  !  " 

She  sighed  deeply. 

"  You  do  not  understand,"  she  said.  "  I  despair  of 
making  you  understand.  Can  you  not  perceive ;  do  you 
i?ot  see  how  impossible  it  is  for  us  ever  to  be  happy 
again?  Listen  to  me,  Basil.  I  have  never  sought,  to 
intrude  what  you  call  my  religious  ideas  upon  you  — 
never;  perhaps  you  may  not  understand  how  deeply 
they  are  engraven  on  my  very  soul,  Basil.  I  could  not 
do  what  I  thought  would  offend  God  ;  I  could  not  if  all 
the  happiness  in  the  world  were  offered  to  me  as  the 
price  of  my  sin." 

"  You  need  not,"  he  replied,  earnestly. 

"  Again,  you  understand  me.  I  tell  you  —  and  noth- 
ing can  alter  my  belief —  I  tell  you  that,  before  Heaven, 
Silvia  is  your  wife.  You  married  her,  and,  for  any 
intention  you  might  have  of  deceiving  her,  she  was  quite 
innocent.  She  has  the  first  and  most  valid  claim  upon 
you.  She  is  the  mother  of  your  child ;  and  no  prayer 
that  you  can  pray,  no  pleading  that  you  can  plead,  no 
arguments,  nothing  can  move  me.  To  remain  here  as 
your  wife,  knowing  that  I  am  not,  and  never  have  been 
your  wife,  would  be  to  offend  Heaven,  to  sin  horribly — 
and  /  shall  not  do  it  ?  " 

Looking  at  her,  with  her  pale,  noble  face  bright  with 
the  light  that  shone  on  the  brows  of  the  martyrs  01  old 
Lord  Dynecourt  felt  himself  more  small,  more  mean, 
more  insignificant  than  he  had  ever  done  before. 


822  THROWN   ON   THE    WORL1X 


CHAPTEK  LXXIII. 

A  LAWYER'S  OPINION. 

LORD  DYNECOTTRT  knew  at  once  that  if  Lady  Clotilde 
intrenched  herself  behind  such  arguments  as  those,  her 
resolution  was  unalterable ;  and  now  that  for  the  first 
time  the  fear  of  losing  her  really  took  possession  of  him, 
he  felt  all  that  the  loss  must  entail. 

"  I  see  it  is  useless  for  me  to  plead,"  he  said.  "  Clo- 
tilde, do  me  one  grace — let  me  send  for  the  lawyer,  who 
knows  all  my  affairs,  who  knew  of  this  unfortunate  es- 
capade, who  undertook  to  settle  it  for  me,  and  we  will 
abide  by  what  he  says." 

He  felt  sure  that  in  Mr.  Tresham  he  should  find  a 
friend;  that  Mr.  Tresham  would  Inugh  all  Lady  Clotilde's 
sentiment  and  religion  to  scorn  ;  that  his  matter  of-fact, 
dry,  legal  way  of  looking  at  the  business  would  insensibly 
influence  her,  that  his  worldly  knowledge  would  impress 
her;  but  Lord  Dynecourt  was  mistaken. 

"  I  see  no  use  in  your  sending  for  Mr.  Tresham,"  she 
said  wearily;  "  his  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  will  not 
change  mine.  Still,  if  it  be  your  wish,  I  accede  to  it. 
You  will,  I  am  sure,  excuse  me  until  he  comes." 

And  without  another  word  she  quitted  the  room,  leav- 
ing him  more  miserable  than  he  had  ever  thought  ir 
possible  for  a  peer  of  the  realm,  possessed  of  almost 
unlimited  wealth,  to  be. 

He  had  thought  to  move  her  by  prayers  and  supplica- 
tions; he  had  pictured  to  himself  a  scene  where  he 
should  be  kneeling  at  her  feet,  weeping,  perhaps,  if  he 
found  it  needful  to  1:0  to  such  lengths;  then  a  reconcilia- 
tion ;  Silvia  ;:nin!v  ]>;••  >vi»le<l  for;  the  boy  perhaps,  adopt- 
ed ;  aod  ev^rytliiuj  satisfactory  and  pleasant.  Of 
course  he  should  have  to  be  very  contrite  and  attentive 
for  some  long  time  afterward.  Then  all  would  be  well 
and  he  should  be  well  out  of  a  terrible  position. 

But  this  dream  was  not  to  be  realized.     Lady  Clotilde 


THROWN   ON   THE   WOKLD.  323 

had  taken  a  higher  view  of  the  whole  matter  than  lie 
had  expected.  She  h;id  chosen  to  make  a  religious  ques- 
tion of  it,  and,  if  it  came  to  that,  Lord  Dyneconrt  knew 
BO  very  little  of  religion  that  he  said  to  himself,  with  a 
shrug  of  the  shoulders,  "  it  was  quite  impossible  to  tell 
how  he  did  stand." 

He  sent  at  once  to  Mr.  Tresham,  and  that  gentleman, 
full  of  amaze  at  the  imperious  summons,  hastened  to 
obey.  He  found  Lord  Dynecourt  in  a  state  of  great 
agitation  and  excitement,  walking  with  rapid  footsteps 
up  and  down  the  library. 

"  Tresham,"  cried  Lord  Dynecourt,  "  I  am  in  one  of 
the  most  terrible  positions  that  ever  yet  fell  to  the  lot  of 
any  man." 

The  lawyer,  who  knew  that,  as  far  as  money  was  con- 
cerned, his  client  was  one  of  the  most  prosperous  of 
human  beings,  looked  up  in  amaze. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  lord  ? "  he  asked,  quickly. 

"That  is  -just  what  I  want  you  to  hear,"  he  replied; 
"  but  stay ;  I  promised  my  lady  not  to  utter  one  word 
except  in  her  presence.  I  must  call  her.  I  dare  not  do 
otherwise." 

"  Why — what  is  the  matter !  "  repeated  Mr.  Tresham. 

"  Oh!  that  horrible  Scotch  affair  has  all  come  to  light, 
and  my  lady  has  taken  very  high  grounds  over  it ;  in  fact, 
/cannot  bring  her  to  reason,  and  you  must." 

Mr.  Tresham  looked  at  his  hat  in  alarm. 

"  I  would  really  so  much  nther  not  interfere,"  he  said. 
"  I  can  do  no  good ;  it  is  quite  out  of  my  province.  You 
ought  to  manage  it,  ray  lord.  No  one  else  can  inter- 
fere." 

And  the  lawyer  looked  so  genuinely  frightened  that 
Lord  Dynecourt,  despite  the  gravity  of  his  position,  could 
not  refrain  from  smiling.  All  thoughts  of  smiles  died 
away  when  the  door  opened  and  Lady  Clotilde  entered. 
Mr.  Tresham  looked  almost  frightened  at  her  white  face. 

"  What  has  she  suffered,"  he  thought,  "  to  change  her 
so?" 

There  was  nothing  tragical  in  her  look  or  manner  :  but 
her  deep  anguish,  her  unutterable  woe,  seemed  to  clothe 
her  as  with  a  garment.  She  went  up  to  Mr.  Tresham, 


824  THROWN    ON    THE    WOKLD. 

and  it  seemed  to  him  years  had  passed  over  her  head 
since  he  had  seen  her  last. 

"  Lord  Dynecourt  has  sent  for  you,"  she  began,  slowly, 
"  wishing  you  to  give  your  advice  honestly  and  truly. 
Before  you  do  so,  let  me  warn  you  that  this  is  a  question 
not  merely  concerning  property,  worldly  interests,  or  any- 
thing of  that  kind,  but  nearly  touching  the  salvation  of 
immortal  souls!  think  of  that  before  you  give  your 
opinion.  Now,  my  lord,  tell  your  story." 

It  was  with  a  strange,  nervous  hesitation  that  the  un- 
happy nobleman  told  the  story ;  Lady  Clotilde  listened 
calmly;  the  lawyer's  face  grew  darker  and  graver  as  he 
heard. 

"  Give  the  details  of  that  marriage  as  they  were  given 
to  me,"  said  Lady  Clotilde. 

Not  without  much  agitation,  hesitation,  and  embarrass- 
ment did  he  comply.  Mr.  Tresham's  face  grew  still 
graver. 

"  And  this  was  in  the  presence  of  witnesses  who  are 
living  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  they  are  living,  I  suppose,"  was  the  reply. 

"  But,  my  lord,  you  did  not  give  us  these  details  when 
you  mentioned  the  affair  to  us,"  said  Mr.  Tresham. 

"  I  did  not  think  of  them,"  he  replied,  trying  to 
assume  an  indifference  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

"  They  materially  change  the  aspect  of  the  business, 
though.  They  make  it,  in  fact,  a  very  awkward  one,  and 
I  should  prefer  declining  altogether  to  give  my  opinion.". 

"  But  you  cannot  decline,"  said  Lady  Clotilde.  "  You 
are  Lord  Dynecourt's  legal  adviser,  and  bound  as  such  to 
give  him  your  honest,  unbiased  opinion." 

"  Do  not  be  afraid  to  speak,  Tresham,"  said  his  lord- 
ship, who  pitied  the  embarrassment  of  his  man  of  busi- 
ness. "  Indeed,  there  is  little  need  for  speaking  ;  if  you 
had  anything  cheerful  to  say  to  me,  you  would  have  said 
it  before  now." 

Mr.  Tresham's  only  reply  was  a  kind  of  groan. 

"  It  is  a  most  unfortunate  business  altogether,  my  lord; 
but  I  am  indeed  afraid  that,  if  it  came  to  a  trial,  the  de- 
cision would  be  in  favor  of  your  first  marriage." 


THKOWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  325 

"  That  is  your  opinion  as  a  lawyer,"  said  Lady  Clo- 
tilde ;  now  tell  me  what  you  think  as  a  man  of  honor." 

"  My  lady,  permit  me  to  decline  answering  you.  Long 
years  of  faithful  service  have  endeared  the  name  of 
Dynecourt  to  me  ;  I  must  decline  to  sit  in  judgment  on 
one  who  has  long  been  to  me  a  generous  employer." 

"  You  simply  give  your  legal  opinion,  then,  when  you 
say  the  first  marriage  would  hold  good  in  law?  " 

He  bowed  assent.  Then  Lady  Clotilde  turned  to  Lord 
Dynecourt. 

"  You  will  find,"  she  said,  "  that  all  legal  opinion  in 
England  will  agree.  This  gentleman,  bound  to  you  by 
every  tie  of  gratitude  and  interest,  is  obliged  to  take  part 
against  you.  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  bow  to  the 
inevitable.  I  say  before  Mr.  Tresliam,  the  first  witness 
before  whom  I  have  spoken,  that  I  acknowledge  my 
marriage  to  be  null  and  void." 

The  lawyer  rose  in  deepest  distress. 

"  My  lady,"  he  cried,  "  pray  reconsider  your  words  1 
— pray  think  of  the  consequences!  Surely  some  arrange- 
ments can  be  made  that  will  satisfy  you  and  make  mat- 
ters pleasant.  You  cannot  think  of  leaving  Lord  Dyne- 
court.  Think  of  the  commotion,  the  excitement,  the 
wonder  of  the  world,  the  ruin,  the  desolation,  the  sorrow 
that  you  bring  down  upon  his  head  and  upon  your  own ! 
Think  of  the  "misery  into  which  you  plunge  your  family 
and  friends  !  It  must  not  be  thought  of,  my  lady,  not  for 
one  moment,  believe  me." 

The  noble,  earnest  face  was  turned  for  one  half-minute 
to  him. 

"There  is  but  one  consideration  that  will  be  of  any 
weight  with  me,  Mr.  Tresham  —  that  will  not  be  of  this 
world,  but  the  next.  I  shall  try  to  do  what  is  right 
before  God — the  rest  may  go." 

"  But,  Lady  Dynecourt,"  he  began. 

"  Nay,"  she  said,  interrupting  him,  "  that  is  not  my 
name." 

He  sat  down  again,  with  a  gesture  of  resignation  and 
despair.  The  light  deepened  in  her  eyes  as  she  con- 
tinued : 

"  This  is  a  worldly  age,  Mr.  Tresham— an  age 


826  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

everything  most  sound  is  held  of  little  account — an  age, 
above  all,  when  the  sanctity  of  the  marriage  tie  is  held  as 
naught — when  men  openly  set  at  defiance  the  Divine 
command  of  marriage !  I,  for  one,  enter  my  protest 
against  such  a  state  of  things  I  will  make  no  compro- 
mise, no  arrangement;  I  will  simply  do  what  is  right; 
should  it  blight  my  life,  break  my  heart,  estrange  me 
from  all  I  love  most  dearly,  still  I  will  do  what  is  right 
and  nothing  else." 

Her  voice  grew  firmer  as  she  proceeded. 

"  I  married  an  angel,"  thought  Lord  Dynecourt,  "  not 
a  mere  mortal  woman ;  and  between  men  and  angels 
there  cannot  be  much  in  common." 

While  Mr.  Tresham,  hardy  old  lawyer  as  he  was,  wiped 
the  tears  from  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  LXXIY. 

"  HOW    WILL   IT   END  ?  " 

"  I  HAVE  thought  over  the  arrangements  that  seem  best 
to  me,"  said  Lady  Clotilde ;  "  it  is  quite  useless  to  think 
that  we  can  keep  it  from  the  world  —  the  world  must 
know.  If  only  one  person  learns  a  lesson,  if  only  one 
man  learns  to  be  less  selfish,  and  one  young  girl  to  be 
more  prudent,  I  shall  not  have  suffered  in  vain.  It  is  too 
late  now  to-day  to  take  any  steps  at  all ;  to-morrow,  Lord 
Dynecourt,  I  shall  ask  you  to  escort  me  to  my  mother's 
house.  There  we  say  farewell  forever  in  this  world ; 
there  your  lawyer  can  meet  mine,  and  you  can  make  any 
arrangement  you  wish  over  property.  I  am  perfectly 
indifferent." 

"  Will  nothing  induce  you,  Lady  Clotilde,  to  alter  your 
decision  ? "  said  Mr.  Tresham,  earnestly. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  with  a  sad,  gentle  smile ;  "  nothing 
unless  you  can  prove  to  me  it  is  an  unwise  one,  and  that 
is,  I  iear,  impossible.  Good-by,  Mr.  Tresham,  until  we 
meet  again." 

When  she  had  once  more  quitted  the  room  Lord  Dyne- 
court  turned  to  his  lawyer. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  was  there  ever  an  unfortunate  maa 


THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  337 

in  such  a  fix  as  this?  Was  there  ever  anything  so  un- 
lucky? Where  shall  I  hide  myself?  How  am  I  to  bear 
the  sneers  and  contempt  of  the" world,  when  it  shall  know 
my  story  ? " 

An  expression  of  something  like  contempt  came  over 
the  lawyer's  shrewd  face;  it  lingered  there  one  half- 
minute,  then  died  away. 

"  My  lord,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  you 
are  the  least  to  be  pitied  of  the  three  so  fatally  brought 
together.  Lady  Clotilde  has  all  my  share  of  sympathy 
and  sorrow." 

"  That  will  be  the  case  with  every  one,"  said  Lord 
Dynecourt.  "  That  is  what  makes  me  so  annoyed.  After 
all  —  speak  fairly,  Tresham  —  what  have  I  done  worse 
than  any  young  man  of  my  age  does  ?  I  have  been  a 
thousand  times  better  than  some." 

"  Thank  goodness,"  said  the  old  lawyer,  "  I  never  was 
a  young  man  of  the  world  in  that  sense.  Of  such  follies 
I  am  no  judge.  Far  better  to  ruin  clients,  as  we  are 
accused  of  doing,  than  to  break  hearts." 

"  Well,  it  is  an  awkward  fix.  How  can  I  face  Lady 
Yoyse  ?  She  is  like  Lady  Clotilde  in  her  notions.  I 
shall  look  like  a  perfect  simpleton  ;  still,  a  nobleman 
should  never  hesitate  in  facing  a  difficulty.  I  must  get 
through  it  after  some  fashion.  It  will  make  a  wretched 
man  of  me,  I  know  that." 

"  I  have  always  heard  that  sin  brought  its  own  punish- 
ment," said  Mr.  Tresham,  gravely. 

My  lord  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  call  sin,"  he  said.  "  I 
suppose,  after  this,  every  simpleton  who  can  carry  a  stone 
will  feel  at  liberty  to  fling  one  at  me.  Do  not  be  long, 
Tresham,  before  you  follow  us  down  to  Lady  Voyse's. 
shall  want  some  one  to  support  me  in  the  scenes  that  I 
shall  have  to  go  through." 

"  I  will  go  down  the  day  after  you,  my  lord  ;  and 
from  the  depths  of  my  heart  I  wish  you  free  from  all 
this  trouble." 

Then,  with  a  few  more  words  on  each  side,  they  parted. 
Lord  Dynecourt  to  lament  his  fate,  the  lawyer  to  look  up 
the  marriage  settlements  that  had  been  drawn  up  on  the 


328  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

so-called  marriage  between  Lord  Dynecourt  and  Lady 
Clotilde. 

Lord  Dynecourt  was  very  unhappy.  He  had  a  great 
dread  of  what  the  world  would  say  ;  he  feared  its  sneers ; 
he  did  not  like  the  notion  of  its  contempt ;  he  had 
always  heen  honored,  courted,  flattered.  He  conld  just 
picture  to  himself  the  leading  articles  that  would  com- 
ment on  his  case  ;  the  newspaper  criticisms ;  the  name  of 
Dynecourt  held  up  to  universal  execration.  The  reputa- 
tion of  being  a  man  of  gallantry  is  one  thing;  to  be  con- 
sidered a  general  favorite  with  the  fair  sex  is  another ; 
but  to  have  the  blight  of  a  life  like  Lady  Clotilde's  laid 
at  his  door,  was  quite  another  thing. 

"  There  never  has  been  a  Dynecourt  yet  who  commit- 
ted suicide,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  or  I  would  fain  to  do 
it." 

There  was  only  one  gleam  of  comfort  for  him.  Sup- 
posing that  the  worst  came — that  Lady  Clotilde  left  him 
— that  he  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  this  first  marriage 
— there  was  just  one  comfort ;  it  left  him  a  son  and  heir. 

"I  shall  disappoint  the  man  who  has  spent  his  life  in 
hoping  to  succeed  me,"  he  thought,  with  a  smile.  And 
that  Lord  Dynecourt  could  smile  was  a  sign  that  his  heart 
was  not  quite  broken. 

That  same  evening  Silvia  received  a  note  from  Lady 
Clotilde  ;  it  said  simply  : 

"  MY  DEAR  SILVIA,  —  I  am  going  to-morrow  to  my  mother, 
Lady  Voyse,  at  Amphill  Park,  where  every  arrangement  will  be 
made  for  your  future;  and  you  may  rely  upon  it  that  it  will  not 
be  long  before  your  proper  position,  and  that  of  your  little  son, 
iz  secured  to  you." 

Silvia's  tears  fell  warm  over  the  signature  of  "  Clotiide 
Voyse." 

"  It  is  so  cruel  to  her,"  she  murmured,  "  and  yet  she 
will  have  it  so.  I  would  bear  it  for  her,  but  she  will  not 
let  me ;  she.  to  herself,  is  cruelly  good.  How  will  it  end  ? 
I  see  no  way  out  of  it,  but  death;  yet  I  dare  not  think 
who  should  die." 

Some  time  afterward  that  thought  returned  to  her  as  a 
prophecy.  Already  the  destroying  angel  had  taken  his 


THROWN    ON    THE    WOKLD.  329 

aim,  and  the  shadow  of  deatli  hung  over  one  of  tlie  three 
whose  interests  in  life  were  so  fatally  interwoven. 

That  night  Lady  Clotilde  stood  in  her  room  alone. 
She  had  made  all  arrangements  for  her  journey  on  the 
morrow;  she  had  beaten  back,  with  a  strong  hand  and 
iron  will,  all  the  love  and  sorrow,  the  anguish  and  despair 
that  would  have  surged  over  her  soul  as  angry  waves 
beat  over  a  shore. 

"  I  shall  have  time  for  sorrow  afterward,"  she  said  to 
herself,  "  when  the  dead,  gray  level  of  my  life  sets  in, 
and  I  begin  to  realize  that  it  must  be  passed  without 
Basil." 

Her  maid  looked  up  in  astonishment,  when  she  receiv- 
ed the  orders  to  pack  for  her  mistress. 

"  To  leave  London  before  the  season  was  ended — what 
could  it  mean  ?  "  But  from  the  white,  calm  face  of  Lady 
Clotilde  she  learned  nothing. 

"  Never  mind  my  jewels,"  she  said  gently.  "I  will 
select  what  I  want  to  take  with  me." 

When  the  glittering,  costly  contents  of  the  cases  were 
laid  before  her,  she  took  from  them  all  the  jewels  that 
she  had  brought  with  her  from  home,  but  the  magnifi- 
cent heirlooms  of  the  Dynecourts.  The  diamonds  and 
rubies,  richest  spoils  of  an  Eastern  land,  she  left  un- 
touched ;  the  costly  and  superb  presents  that  Lord  Dyne- 
court  had  made  to  her  were  all  laid  aside. 

"I  was  not  his  wife,"  she  thought,  with  a  swelling 
heart ;  "  I  had  no  right  to  them." 

The  longing  to  fling  herself  on  the  ground  and  wec\> 
out  her  bitter  anguish  and  passionate  tears  were  fierce 
enough  to  cause  her  even  physical  pain,  but  she  restrain- 
ed it. 

"There  will  be  time  enough  to  weep,"  she  thought, 
"  when  I  have  left  him,  and  the  wrench  is  made." 

The  boxes  were  packed  and  arranged,  were  carried 
away,  the  jewel  cases  relocked.  The  maid  had  gone  to 
her  room,  and  Lady  Clotilde  stood  more  utterly  alone 
than  any  words  had  power  to  tell— alone,  with  the  wreck 
and  ruin  of  her  life  around  her. 

Then  the  tempest  of  grief  that  she  could  no  longer 
control  swept  over  her.  Did  ever  Heaven  look  down  on 


330  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

euch  bitter  tears?  Did  ever  such  wild,  hitter  anguish 
rend  any  desolate  heart? 

The  happy  days  of  her  happy  love  came  hack  to  her 
—  the  happy  months  of  her  married  life,  before  any 
cloud  ever  dimmed  the  glory  of  her  sky. 

It  was  such  a  fate — such  a  bitter,  cruel,  unmerited  fate. 
Perhaps  God  took  pity  on  her  as  she  lay  there,  and 
decreed  for  her  happiness  such  as  this  life  could  bring 
never  more. 


CHAPTER  LXXY. 

DIVORCED     BY     HEAVEN. 

THERE  was  some  little  surprise  expressed  in  the  house- 
hold at  Dynewold  House  that  my  lord  and  my  lady 
should  go  away  so  suddenly,  leaving  town  when  the 
season  was  most  brilliant,  and  the  engagements  most 
numerous  ;  but  even  that  surprise  died  away  when  it 
became  known  that  their  destination  was  Amphill  Park. 
My  lord  was  taking  his  valet  with  him,  but  Lady  Clo- 
tilde  had  said  distinctly  she  was  not  going  to  take  her 
maid. 

She  had  been  very  dearly  loved,  this  proud,  gentle, 
high-born  lady,  who  never  addressed  an  inferior  save  in 
the  most  courteous  terms,  who  had  taken  the  kindest 
interest  in  all  her  dependents,  whose  hands  were  ever 
open  to  relieve  the  distressed  and  succor  the  unfortunate. 
There  was  not  a  member  of  her  household  who  had  not 
some  generous  action,  some  kindly  sympathy,  some  trait 
of  benevolence  to  record  of  her.  There  was  not  one 
whom  she  had  not  assisted  either  in  word  or-  deed,  and 
on  this,  the  last  time  they  ever  saw  her,  they  looked 
anxiously  at  her,  wondering  what  had  dimmed  the 
brightness  of  her  face,  and  why  she  was  so  calm,  so  cold, 
and  so  unlike  herself. 

The  carriage  was  ordered  for  half  past  eleven ;  the 
train  left  Euston  Square  at  noon,  and  reached  Amphill 
about  three.  Lady  Clotilde  had  quitted  her  room.  On  the 
night  before  she  had  looked  her  last  round  the  home 
where  the  happiest  hours  of  her  life  had  been  spent. 


THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD.  331 

She  had  looked  around  with  proud,  calm,  silent  eyes, 
taking  her  quiet  farewell  of  every  room,  of  every  place 
that  had  been  endeared  to  her  by  memories  of  the  m;in 
she  loved ;  and  no  one  knew  or  understood  the  tempest 
of  agony  that  shook  both  her  heart  and  soul. 

^Kot  willingly  would  she  renew  that  agony;  riot- 
willingly  would  she  look  round  the  home  that  was  no 
longer  hers  —  the  home  where  in  after  years  her  story 
would  be  told,  and  her  name  held  up  to  unusual  pity. 
"When  her  heart  softened,  when  her  eyes  filled  with 
burning  tears,  she  said  to  herself: 

"  Let  me  always  remember  that  T  never  had  any  place 
here;  I  have  never  been  Lord  Dyneconrt's  wife,"  and 
the  reflection  was  sufficient;  it  brought  both  pride  and 
courage  to  her  aid. 

Lord  Dynecourt,  who  was  perhaps  the  most  unhappy, 
not  having  the  consolation  of  right-doing  to  sustain  him, 
who  was  miserable  beyond  a!l  words  of  mine  to  describe, 
had  sent  to  request  an  interview  with  her.  but  she  had 
declined. 

"  It  would  be  quite  useless,"  she  wrote;  "  my  resolu- 
tion is  unchangeable,  and  an  interview  would  only  pain 
us  both.  I  have  no  reproach  to  make.  I  pray  you  to 
forbear  all  useless  words." 

So,  with  a  sigh  of  resignation,  to  what  he  evidently 
considered  a  very  unkind  fate,  my  lord  forbore.  And 
the  first  time  he  saw  Lady  Clotilde  on  the  day  of  her 
departure  from  his  house  was  as  she  stood  in  the  hall, 
ready  dressed  for  travelling.  Few  word*  passed  between 
them;  there  was  just  a  courteous  morning  greeting  \>? 
save  appearances.  No  one  knew  the  sorrow,  the  anguish, 
the  despair  that  was  rending  that  gentle  heart.  Then 
Lady  Clotilde  took  her  seat/and  the  carriage  drove  on; 
she  had  left  Lord  Dynecourt's  house  forever. 

A  prayer  for  mercy  parsed  her  lips  as  she  looked  her 
last  on  the  well  -  loved,  familiar  spot ;  that  prayer  had 
already  been  heard  and  granted. 

Any  newspaper  in  England  can  tell  the  rest  of  the 
story  in  plain  and  forcible  language;  the  great  Amphill 
Collision,  as  it  is  called,  is  not  yet  forgotten,  for  a  rnoro 
terrible  accident  never  occurred.  All  England  shivered 


332  THROWN    ON   THE    WORLD. 

as  it  was  read.  So  many  killed,  so  many  wounded,  so 
many  crippled  for  life,  so  much  sorrow  and  desolation, 
all  arising  from  the  simplest  cause  —  an  overworked, 
underpaid  servant,  who  mistook  his  signals,  and  allowed 
two  express  trains  to  meet  and  come  into  violent  col- 
lision, when  the  one  should  have  been  detained,  until  the 
other  had  gone  past.  People  read  and  shrugged  their 
shoulders,  wondering  indignantly  when  this  state  of 
things  would  cease,  and  people  who  paid  for  safety  find 
it.  Then,  after  a  long,  dreary  inquiry  which  ended  in 
nothing,  compensations  were  paid,  claims  allowed,  one  or 
two  officials  blamed,  one  imprisoned,  and  then  the  great 
Amphill  Collision  became  a  thing  of  the  past.  It  was 
marked  in  the  almanacs,  and  quoted  always  when  the 
security  of  railway  travelling  was  in  question. 

It  was  a  terrible  accident;  and,  strange  to  say,  the  first- 
class  carriages  had  suffered  most  severely.  The  collision 
had  taken  place  on  an  embankment,  and  three  of  the 
carriages  had  been  driven  over  the  brink,  and  had  fallen 
into  the  fields  below.  Among  them  was  one  where 
Lord  Dyneconrt  and  Lady  Clotilde  had  sat  alone.  The 
morning  was  so  fair  and  bright  that  all  thoughts  of  death 
or  accident  seemed  out  of  place ;  in  fact,  no  such  idea 
had  entered  any  one's  mind.  The  sun  shone,  and  the 
beautiful  country  lay  laughing  in  its  light.  The  leaves 
were  all  green  on  the  hedges,  and  wild  roses  mixed  with 
honeysuckles  made  them  one  mass  of  fragrant  bloom. 
The  birds  were  singing;  Hie  flowers  sent  forth  their 
sweet  breath ;  the  world  lay  warm,  bright,  and  fragrant 
under  the  blue  sky. 

Lord  Dynecourt  had  said  nothing.  One  look  at  the 
-vhite  face,  and  the  anguish  that  lay  so  deep  in  those 
beautiful  eyes  showed  him  words  were  all  in  vain.  Only 
as  the  beautiful  morning,  the  sunny,  smiling  landscape, 
and  the  fragrant  air  touched  his  keen  love  of  the  pleasant 
and  the  lovely,  he  turned  to  her,  saying : 

"  Clotilde,  will  you  believe  me  that  I  would  lay  down 
my  life  to  have  all  this  misery  undone?  " 

The  train  was  drawing  very  near  to  the  fatal  embank- 
ment then  ;  they  had  travelled  far  in  unbroken  silence. 


THROWN    ON   THE    WOKLD.  333 

A  tender  gleam  of  light  broke  up  the  white,  cold 
expression  of  her  face. 

"  I  believe  it,  Basil,"  she  replied  ;  and  those  were 
nearly  the  last  words  Lady  Clotilde  ever  spoke. 

Then  came  a  sudden  shock  —  a  violent  motion  that 
seemed  to  run  through  the  train.  He  looked  at  her  with 
pale,  scared  face. 

"  There  is  an  accident,  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  and 
rising  instinctively  as  though  to  shield  her. 

While  he  lived  he  liked  to  remember  that  she  did  not 
shrink  from  him,  but  looked  up  into  his  face  with  a  faint 
smile.  As  the  horror  deepened,  and  the  terrified  cry  of 
voices  were  heard,  she  whispered: 

"  Is  it  death,  Basil  ? " 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  replied,  with  a  quivering  in  hia 
voice. 

"  Thank  Heaven !  then  you  may  be  spared  !" 

He  liked  to  remember  how  her  eyes  sought  his,  and 
she  half -raised  her  face  to  him.  Even  then,  in  that 
supreme  moment,  he  noticed  how;  radiant  was  the  light 
on  her  brow;  the  next,  thick  darkness  and  horror  had 
overwhelmed  him;  lie  lay,  with  her  in  his  arms,  under 
the  broken  wreck  of  the  carriage,  which  had  rattled 
down  the  embankment. 

He  was  powerless  to  move  or  stir ;  the  keen  agony 
that  had  at  first  run  with  a  burning  shudder  through  his 
limbs,  gave  place  to  a  still  more  dreadful  numbness;  he 
could  hardly  think ;  the  faculty  of  thought  seemed  all 
gone  from  him. 

The  first  prayer  that  he  had  said  for  years  trembled 
on  his  lips,  and  then  all  was  oblivion.  Hours  afterward, 
when  Lord  Dynecourt  opened  his  eyes,  he  was  lying  in 
the  principal  room  of  the  hotel  at  Amphill,  and  the  first 
news  he  received  was  that  Lady  Clotilde  had  been  takeu 
from  his  arms  dead. 

Was   it  best   so?      Heaven   only   knows! 
thought  so,  for  her  last  words  were  that  he  should   be 
spared  ;  and  spared  he  was,  so  far  as  the  scorn  and  con- 
tempt of  the  world  went.     He  escaped  that,  and  in  i 
stead  found  warmest  sympathy  and  pity.     All  that  was 
known  was  that  he  was  travihg  with  Lady  Clotilde  to 


£34  THROWN    ON    THE    WORLD. 

Amphill,  and  that  while  she  was  killed,  he  escaped  with 
his  life,  only  to  be  a  helpless  cripple  while  that  life  last- 
ed. It  was  long  before  any  one  knew  more ;  and  when 
it  was  found  necessary  to  extend  that  knowledge,  it  was 
only  to  two  or  three  people. 

Was  it  best  for  her  ?  Little  need  to  ask !  One  look 
at  the  beautiful  face,  with  peace  ineffable  on  the  lips  and 
brow,  the  question  was  answered.  She  had  chosen  the 
higher,  nobler,  better  part ;  she  had  laid  her  heart  and 
her  life  on  the  altar  of  duty  ;  but  what  that  sacrifice  had 
cost  her,  and  what  she  had  suffered  in  making  it  no  one 
knew  but  herself. 

Heaven  had  been  merciful  to  her  ;  her  fair  name,  the 
sanctity  of  the  life  she  had  believed  to  be  her  married 
life,  her  sensitive  pride,  her  keen  sense  of  honor,  had 
escaped  all  outrage ;  her  name  was  not  to  be  the  butt  of 
newspapers  and  the  text  of  leading-  articles;  her  story 
was  not  to  be  conned  over  by  lovers  of  a  new  sensation  ; 
her  broken  heart  was  not  to  be  discussed  by  idlers  of  the 
clubs  and  the  elegantes  of  the  drawing  room. 

The  price  she  paid  for  her  freedom  was  only  her  life, 
and  women  of  highest  honor  oftentimes  value  that  least. 


CHAPTER  LXXVI. 

TARDY    JUSTICE. 

FOR  once  the  world  was  nnfeignedly  sorry.  Lady 
Clotilde  had  not  only  been  loved  but  highly  esteemed. 
No  one  had  any  fault  to  find  with  her,  and  her  early 
death  was  most  sincerely  lamented. 

They  did  not  know  —  they  who  mourned  so  sincerely 
for  her  —  that  life  had  become  a  trouble  and  a  burden 
greater  than  she  could  bear  :  they  did  not  know  that  the 
ewift,  sudden,  terrible  death  was  to  her  a  blessing  in 
disguise.  There  was  no  one  to  remonstrate  when  on  the 
white  marble  monument  her  name  was  engraved  — 

"  LADT  CT.OTILTYR 


There  were  only  three  persons  living  who  knew  the 


THROWN    ON   THE   WORLB 


id  never  boon  hers  —  Lord  Dynecourt,  who  lay 
Hfe  and  death;   Mr.  Tresham,  who  would  not 


name  had 

between 

betray  his   knowledge ; 'Silvia,  who  would   freely   have 

given  her  life  for  that  one  that  had  IXH-II  taken. 

So  Lady  Dynecourt  was  laid  to  rest,  and  the  world 
never  knew  her  story. 

Lord  Dynecourt  was  dangerously  ill  for  a  long  time. 
It  was  often  thought  that  recovery  for  him  was  impossi- 
ble, and  it  was  almost  to  be  feared  that  he  did  not  care 
for  his  life  at  the  price.  He  was  to  be  crippled,  he  was 
to  be  unable  to  walk,  to  move  freely,  with  the  use  of  one 
arm  gone;  and  from  a  gay,  handsome,  accomplished  man 
of  the  world  such  a  fate  was  worse  than  death. 

He  had  leisure,  as  he  lay  there,  to  repent  of  his  sins,  to 
form  better  resolutions  for  the  future,  to  bewail  his  folly, 
and  to  learn  the  lesson  so  many  learn  too  late  —  that 
honesty  and  straightforward  dealing,  high  principle  and 
honor,  are  safer  guides  for  a  man  than  the  indulgence 
in  pleasure,  and  the  gratification  of  every  idle  whim. 

He  learned  that  lesson.  He  became  a  wiser,  better 
man  ;  but  the  price  that  he  paid  for  that  learning  was  a 
terrible  one. 

"When  he  recovered  himself,  and  was  able  to  under- 
stand something  of  what  was  going  on,  they  told  him  of 
Lady  Clotilde's  funeral,  and  of  the  superb  monument 
erected  to  her.  No  one  understood  the  intense  anxiety 
with  which  he  asked  what  had  been  put  on  it;  no  one 
knew  why  his  dim  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  his  lips 
quivered,  as  he  heard  the  name  —  "  Lady  Clotilde  Dyne- 
court." 

It  does  not  come  within  the  province  of  these  pages  to, 
iell  how  deeply  Lady  Voyse  felt  her  daughter's  death ; 
she  never  quite  recovered  it,  or  was  the  same  afterward. 

Two  months  passed  before  Lord  Dynecourt  was  able  to 
take  any  part  in  even  the  least  affairs  of  life,  and  then  his 
first  action  was  to  send  for  Silvia.  He  was  still  remaining 
at  the  hotel  at  Amphill,  for  it  had  been  considered 
dangerous  to  remove  him.  No  wonder  or  curiosity  was 
excited  by  the  arrival  of  the  beautiful  lady,  whose  sweet 
face  was  so  sad,  and  who  was  mourning  so  deeply. 

When  she  saw  how  ill,  how  haggard  and  changed  he 


336  THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD. 

looked  she  bad  no  words  for  him  but  those  of  kindness. 
He  held  out  one  hand  imploringly  to  her. 

"  My  wife,"  he  said  ;  "  my  true  wife.  Silvia,  can  you 
ever  forgive  me  ?  " 

And  in  those  few  words  she  read  a  full  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  guilt. 

"  Silvia,"  he  said,  when  all  the  vehemence  of  her  first 
emotion  had  passed,  "will  you  forget  this  miserable 
past,  and  take  your  place  as  my  wife  ?  It  is  a  late  atone- 
ment that  I  offer  you." 

She  shrunk  with  trembling  hands. 

"I  am  unworthy,"  she  said,  "  to  take  her  place.  She 
was  the  noblest  of  women  ;  I  was  but  a  poor,  obscure 
girl." 

He  smiled  faintly,  with  something  of  bitterness  in  his 
smile. 

"Ah,  Silvia i  it  is  no  enviable  position  that  I  can  offer 
you.  I  am  but  the  wreck  of  a  man  ;  my  strength  has 
failed  me ;  my  health  has  left  me.  The  days  in  which 
we  wandered  side  by  side  over  the  heather  and  the 
purple  moors  are  passed ;  the  world  is  almost  over  for 
me.  It  is  almost  cruel  to  ask  you  to  give  your  sweet  life 
to  me!  you  are  young  and  beautiful  still.  My  life  — 
while-I— " 

And  the  once  proud  man  buried  his  face  in  his  hands 
as  he  wept  aloud.  He  could  not  have  nwde  any  appeal 
to  her  feelings  which  would  have  touched  her  more 
deeply.  She  knelt  down  by  his  side,  and  kissed  the  poor 
nerveless  hands. 

"  Do  not  weep,  my  love,"  she  said ;  "  you  had  my 
youth  and  my  k>ve ;  you  shall  have  all  the  rest  of  my  life. 
But  we  must  never  forget  her — never." 

He  shrunk  as  though  she  had  touched  an  aching  nerve. 

"  When  I  do  forget  her,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  forget  the 
very  angels  in  Heaven,  and  even  Heaven  itself." 

Then,  after  some  minutes,  he  bent  down  and  whisper- 
ed: 

"  Silvia,  I  should  so  much  like  to  see  my  son." 

Her  face  flushed  hotly.  The  little  babe,  who  had  been 
deserted,  who  had  been  neglected,  whoso  little  life  had 
been  considered  a  burden,  was  now  of  so  much  con- 


THROWN    ON    THE    WORM).  337 

sequence.  He  would,  some  day  or  other,  bo  the  great 
artd  mighty  Lord  Dyneconrt— that  little,  half -forgotten 
Cyril,  who  had  never  been  loved  or  cherished  bv  any  one 
save  herself. 

"Will  you  bring  him  to  me?  My  only  gleam  of 
comfort  in  all  this  trouble  is  that  I  shall  have  a  son  to  be, 
I  hope,  a  comfort  ;md  a  blessing  to  me." 

"  I  will  bring  him/'  said  Silvio,  and  she  kept  her  word. 
In  a  few  days  she  returned,  taking  with  her  the  beauti- 
ful, blooming  boy,  who  bore  so  great  a  resemblance  to 
Lord  Dynecourt.  lie  had  never  been  so  touched  in  all 
his  life  as  when  he  saw  Cyril.  Tears  rose  to  his  eyes, 
warm,  blinding  tears. 

"And  this  is  my  boy,"  he  said,  in  a  broken  voice. 
Silvia  was  too  generous  to  reproach  him.     She  did  not 
say,  "  Yes ;  the  boy  you  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  world." 
But  Cyril  raised  his  beautiful,  fearless  eyes  to  his  father's 
face. 

"  Are  you  my  papa  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  did  not  know 
that  I  had  one.  I  thought  he  was  dead." 

"  Will  you  try  to  love  me,  Cyril?"  he  asked,  after  a 
short  pause. 

"  Yes ;  but  j.  never  can  love  you  one  half  so  much  as 
my  dear  mamma ;  you  will  not  expect  that." 

When  Lord  Dynecourt  was  able  to  be  removed  he 
asked  to  be  taken  abroad.  Bnt  before  leaving  England 
he  sent  for  Lady  Voyse,  and  made  her  a  full  confession 
of  all  that  had  happened.  She  did  not  add  to  his  misery 
by  any  reproaches ;  she  saw  that  he  felt  keenly  enough 
all  that  had  happened,  and  she  forebore. 

He  also  felt  for  the  gentleman  who  had  believed  hi" 
self  to  be  "  Lord  Dynecourt's  heir;"  every  needful  pr  •• 
of  Cyril's  legitimacy  was  laid  before  him,  and,  greatly 
disappointed  though  he  was,  he  was  obliged  to  own  tli.it 
Silvia's  son  must  succeed  his  father.     Then  Lord  Dyne- 
court  sent  for  his  lawyers  and  made  every  arrangement 
for  the  future. 

After  that  he  went  to  Italy  for  a  time,  and  there  Silvia 
joined  him;  and  all  that  people  knew  was  that  Lord 
Dynecourt  had  mairied  again,  and  that  his  second  wife 
was,  if  possible,  more  beautiful  and  more  gentle  than  his 


£38  THROWN    ON    THE    W(  . 

first.  It  was  not  for  long  years  afterward,  when  it  wac 
known  that  Cyril  was  to  succeed  him,  that  an  inkling  of 
the  true  state  of  the  case  was  made  known ;  then  Lord 
Dynecourt  was  dead,  and  of  his  widow  no  questions  were 
asked. 

One  thing  that  Lord  Dynecourt  did  made  Silvia  very 
happy.  lie  made  her  tell  him  all  that  had  passed  win  u 
she  received  his  letter;  he  learned  then  now  dearly  si; c 
had  loved  him,  when  the  loss  of  him  iiaJ  driven  her 
almost  to  death. 

"  I  must  go  and  see  that  Mr.  Douglas,"  he  said,  "  he 
deserves  my  thanks,  and  he  shall  have  thera.  He  saved 
for  me  my  wife  and  son." 

He  weut,  and  was  so  profuse  in  his  aratitude,  so 
munificent  in  his  presents,  that  the  good  mipister  never 
knew  want  again  while  he  lived.  Lord  Dynectnirt  forgot 
no  one  who  had  ever  been  kind  to  his  wife — they  were 
all  rewarded. 

Was  Silvia,  Lady  Dynecourt,  happy  2  No  one  ever 
knew.  She  devoted  her  whole  time  and  thoughts  to  her 
invalid  husband ;  but  to  those  who  knew  and  lo^ed  her 
best,  there  was  something  of  sadness  in  the  fair  face,  a 
shadow  in  the  sweet  eyes,  that  did  not  tell  of  una'loyed 
content.  It  was  not  a  gay  life,  there  was  not  evea  much 
amusement  in  it,  but  it  was  filled  with  active  duties,  and 
to  some  that  is  the  happiest  life  of  all. 

Mrs.  Greville  did  not  marry  again;  and  when  Suvia 
returned,  to  take  her  place  in  the  great  world  as  Lady 
Dynecourt,  they  became  greater  friends  tiian  ever. 

Her  elevation  gave  pleasure  to  every  one,  for  she  had 
made  many  friends  and  no  enemies.  Lord  Dynecourt 
was  considered  a  very  fortunate  man  by  all  who  knew 
him. 

He  lived  ten  years  after  his  marriage,  and  died  leaving 
his  wife  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  wealthy  women 
in  England. 


THKOWN  ON  THE  WORLD.  339 


CHAPTER  LXXVII. 

HOMES   FOR   THE    HOMELESS. 

OPEN  the  papers  and  read  whose  name  comes  almost 
first  in  ail  the  lists  of  charities;  see  who  is  patroness  of 
every  institution  that  has  benevolence  for  its  object ;  see 
who  has  founded  those  magnificent  homes  for  the  yonng 
and  the  friendless :  she  who  espouses  so  warmly  the  cause 
of  the  lonely  and  sorrowful ;  she  whose  vast  fortune  is 
more  than  half  spent  on  others,  and  those  others  the  r>oor 
and  needy — Lady  Silvia  Dynecourt's. 

During  her  husband's  life-time  she  concentrated  her 
thoughts  and  attention  on  him.  She  studied  the  duties 
of  her  high  position,  and  filled  them  so  as  to  excite  the 
esteem  and  admiration  of  all  who  knew  her.  She  was 
one  of  the  queens  of  society;  yet  no  home  duty  was  ever 
neglected.  She  held  one  of  the  most  brilliant  positions 
in  England,  yet  the  simplicity,  tiie  purity,  the  modest 
grace  that  had  always  distinguished  her,  clung  to  her  still, 
and  won  for  her  the  most  admiring  and  affectionate  love. 

That  noble  and  exalted  lady,  whose  life  the  poet  tells 
ns  is  all  pure  and  serene,  had  the  highest  opinion  of  Lady 
Silvia  Dynecourt;  no  one  was  more  frequently  invited 
to  court,  or  more  highly  welcomed  there. 

The  time  came  for  her,  as  it  comes  for  all  others,  when 
the  sorrows  of  her  life  became  to  her  more  a  sad  memory 
than  a  bitter  reality  ;  when  they  faded  before  the  active 
duties  that  left  her  no  time  for  regret. 

One  of  Lady  Silvia's  favorite  haunts  was  the  picture- 
gallery  at  Dyiiewold  House.  She  never  entered  without 
thinking  of  Lady  Clotilde's  prophecy,  and  wondering  if 
the  gray  shade  really  hovered  there.  It  was  by  her 
special  wish  that  the  magnificent  protrait  of  Lady  Clo- 
tilde  was  placed  there  by  Lord  Dynecourt's  side. 

Those  who  have  once  seen  that  picture  never  forget  it. 
It  is  of  Lady  Clotilde,  in  all  the  pride  of  her  calm  patri- 
cian beauty;  but  there  is  something  about  it  that  rivets 
one's  attention  as  no  other  picture  ever  does.  There  is  a 


340  THROWN    ON    THE    WORM). 

light  on  the  brow — in  the  twilijrht  it:  looks  almost  like  a 
halo — a  light  such  as  one  sees  in  tho  faces  of  martyrs,  a 
something  of  heroism  in  the  dear  eyes.  One  feels  in- 
stinctively that  it  is  a  picture  of  a  truly  noble  woman  — 
a  woman  with  a  grand  soul,  one  capable  of  highest  hero- 
ism and  greatest  deeds. 

It  was  no  rare  thing  for  Lady  Silvia,  when  she  went. 
there  in  the  gloaming,  to  find  her  husband  there  ;  to  s<  e 
him  standing  looking  at  the  picture,  with  gazo  intent. 

She  never  spoke  to  him  on  those  occasions,  hut  would 
go  up  to  him  and  place  one  arm  around  his  neck; 
together  they  would  look  upon  that  noble  face,  and  then 
turn  in  silence  away. 

They  never  forgot  her;  her  memory  seemed  almost 
like  a  living  presence  among  them.  Every  day  brought 
some  fresh  mention  of  her.  It  was  rather  as  though  she 
lived  again  in  Lady  Silvia  than  had  died  from  earth. 

During  those  ten  years  that  Lord  Dynecourt  lived 
with  his  beautiful  and  devoted  wife  by  his  side,  he  in 
some  measure  redeemed  the  faults  of  his  youth.  Dis- 
abled and  crippled,  he  could  not  take  any  very  active 
part  in  life  ;  but  under  the  guidance  of  Lady  Silvia,  he 
did  what  he  could.  He  became  famous  for  his  charities, 
for  his  support  of  all  liberal  and  generous  measures. 

He  found  in  the  son  he  had  once  abandoned  the  great- 
est comfort  and  consolation.  Cyril  grew  up,  beautiful 
alike  in  person,  mind,  and  soul.  The  honors  of  the  Dyne- 
courts  could  not  have  fallen  into  more  noble  hands. 

Then,  when  Basil  Lord  Dynecourt  died,  Cyril  succeed- 
ed him,  and  he  bids  fair  to  become,  in  a  few  years,  one 
of  the  leading  men  in  England.  For  long  he  refused  to 
marry ;  his  love  for  his  beautiful  mother  was  something 
wonderful  to  see.  He  declared  that  until  he  could  find 
Borne  one  like  her  he  would  never  marry.  This  season 
there  is  a  rumor  that  the  Duke  of  Harfleigh's  youngest 
daughter,  the  lovely  gentle  Lady  Blanche,  will  soon  be 
Lady  Dynecourt. 

Lady  Silvia  lives  at  Dynewold  House — it  is  seldom 
that  she  goes  into  the  country  ;  she  is  bufiily  engaged 
now  in  founding  homes  for  the  homeless  young  girls  who 
are  thrown  on  the  world;  she  spares  no  expense,  no 


THROWN   ON   THE    WORLD.  341 

trouble,  no  labor,  and  she  has  by  her  charities  saved  more 
young  girls  from  destruction  than  could  be  counted. 

If  there  be  one  class  to  whom  she  is  more  merciful, 
more  considerate,  more  gentle  than  another,  it  is  to  those 
who  have  been  duped  and  deceived  by  the  selfishness  of 
men. 

Beautiful,  honored,  and  beloved,  we  leave  her.  Her 
story  might  have  been  different,  but  Heaven  was  good  to 
her;  and  through  many  perils  and  tribulations  she  was 
led  into  the  more  pleasant  paths  of  life — paths  where  no 
one  fulfills  duties  more  nobly,  more  patiently  than  she 
if  ho  was  "  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD." 


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r          r> 
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with  our  facilities  for  cheap  manufacturing, 
we  can  supply  a  dainty  edition,  bound  in 
cloth,  at  35  cents,  postpaid. 

OBTAIN  OUR  COMPLETE  CATALOGUE. 

HURST  &  CO.,  Publishers,  395-399  Broadway,  New  York. 


Dictionaries  of  the 
Foreign  Languages 


The  increased  demand  for  good,  low-priced,  Foreign 
Dictionaries,  prompts  the  publishers  to  issue  an  up-to- 
date  line  of  these  books  in  GERMAN,  FRENCH  and 
SPANISH,  with  the  translation  of  each  word  into 
English,  and  vice  versa.  These  lexicons  are  adaptable 
for  use  in  schools,  academies  and  colleges,  and  for  all 
persons  desirous  of  obtaining  a  correct  knowledge  of 
these  languages. 

Durably  bound  in  half  leather,  size  7x5 i,  fully  illus- 
trated, we  offer  the  following : 

GERMAN-ENGLISH  Dictionary,  Price,  Postpaid,  $1.00. 
FRENCH-ENGLISH         "  "  '<        $1.00. 

SPANISH-ENGLISH        "  "  "        $1.00. 

Or,  the  publishers  will  send  all  three,  postpaid, 
upon  receipt  of  82.5O. 

The  same  books,  without  illustrations,  bound  in  cloth, 

size  <Jx4',  are  offered  at  5 Or.,  postpaid, 

or,  all  three  for  $1.00. 

Our  "new  possessions"  make  it  imperative  that  an 
understanding  of  these  languages  are  a  necessity,  and 
these  books  will  fill  a  long  felt  want. 

Write  for  oar  Complete  Book  Catalogue. 

&  CO.,  Publishers,  395-309  Broadway,  New  York. 


Books  That  Command  a  Large  Sale 


iJtdCk      J.\Vl~K  Of 

By  RALPH  CONNOR,  Author  of  "Sky  Pilot, "  Etc. 

Have  you  read  it  ?  If  not,  by  all  means 
do  so  at  once.  We  make  the  cheapest 
edition  published  by  offering  a  cloth  bound 
book  at  30  cents,  postpaid. 

Samantha  at  Saratoga 

By  JOSIAH  ALLEN'S  WIFE. 

It  would  be  hard  to  correctly  state  the 
number  of  copies  of  this  laughable  book 
that  have  been  sold,  but  it  would  reach 
into  the  millions.  We  propose  to  continue 
its  popularity  by  making  a  low-priced  cloth 
edition.  Price,  30  cents,  postpaid. 

WE  MAIL  CATALOGUES  TO  ANYONE 
UPON  REQUEST. 

BURST  &  CO.,  Publishers,  3B5-309  Broadway,  New  York. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000128207    8 


